A Peacekeepers Nightmare
by T.J.98
Summary: Everybody has a story to tell, but not everyone gets to tell their story. Lysander Hardley is a peacekeeper fighting against the second uprising. Now war has come to District 2, and all peacekeepers will be forced fight as their homeland becomes the deciding battlefield of the war. Can he protect his home and family from the war? This story is the sequel to "A Peacekeepers Duty".
1. Chapter 1:First night home

I am lying in my bed, in the bottom bunk, staring at the wooden boards that hold up the top bunk. I do not move, I do not even close my eyes; I simply listen to the breathing of various people in the temporary field barracks. The tent is strong enough to keep the wind out, and it is insulated that I am not cold, yet I was so exhausted from the train ride I did climbed onto the bed without undressing or even taking off my weapons.

The personal chests were loaded onto one of the trains, so I have no where to place my sword. I kept it on when I climbed into the bed, and now I just lie here like the others and try to get over the bad news that greeted us here. A rebel army from District 13 took District 1, most of Panem has fallen, rebel atrocities are rampant, there is fighting along the District 2 border, and Marcus was among those who did not catch the train.

I am saddened by the last part, because I know I will never see him again. Those barbaric traitors do not give fair play, and they will surly slaughter every non-rebel to a man. Still, I do not cry. I guess I have no tears left in me.

We are currently encamped in a District 2 village near our district border, we are here because this is one of the villages the train stopped at. Some of the loyal soldiers got out, some more will get out at other villages along the railroad leading to the districts central city. There are no civilians in this village as they were evacuated deeper into the district long ago. They will be safe from the rebel menace there, they will be safe from the war.

I do not want to fall asleep, not because I will have to wake up in five hours. I do not want to face the battles of my dreams just yet. I know I will, sooner or later, have to face one of the personal torture chambers my mind decides to place me in on random nights. I do not want to face those just yet, so I lie awake and listen to the various sounds of the day. Whether it is Crispin snoring lightly in the bunk above me, Montgomery trying not to move his bandage wrapped leg, Harod mumbling something in his sleep, or Aric playing a card game with Jacobine, I listen to these noises as a distraction to keep myself from falling victim to bad dreams.

I try to think of comforting thoughts, anything to keep me calm. I think of my mother and Annona back home, probably relieved when they got the letter in the mail telling them I successfully escaped District 4. I think of my grandfather, not on his deathbed but when he was alive; his stories of bravery and valor are stories I understand a little better after living through something similar. I get comfort knowing I am following his footsteps, treading the path he tread long ago. I just hope I will live to see the end of this cruel war.

Slowly, quietly, I allow myself to drift off to sleep. I have no dreams, neither good nor bad ones fill my head. It is just peace, and probably the only peace left to find.


	2. Chapter 2:Of blood and battle

We stand at attention, waiting for our orders. Commander Barca gives them to us, and by the look of him I can tell he got just as little sleep as his soldiers. His speech, like his personality, is to the point and avoids unneeded pomp.

"Loyal soldiers, it is unfair to ask you to go back into the fight so soon; if there was any other way or if the the situation were not so dire I wouldn't dare. But the situation is dire, and we will have a lot of fighting before us if our banner is to be victorious. I can promise this, I will continue to lead anyone willing to follow me until the breath is gone from my body. Are you with me?"

We all bellowed our response, "TO TRAITORS NEVER YIELD! TO TRAITORS NEVER YIELD!"

Commander Barca simply says, "Then the sword is drawn."

The marching was only metaphorical, as we got into transport trucks which drove us to the battlefield for deployment. The smell of the air, of the trees, the seasons, of district 2; these smells provide no comfort because they remind me only of all that was lost by the fires of rebellion.

We ride the trucks until we reach the battlefield; a small border hamlet being assaulted by ornery rebels. It does not take long to for Commander Barca to give his soldiers the orders: kill. With fully loaded automatic machine guns, fixed with bayonets at the top, we move quickly to flank the rebels from the left. I, like the others, advance in a running pace. I see three rebel soldiers running down a dirt pathway but I do not open fire.

I am so close and surprise them so well that I am able to slide the bayonet into the chest of the first rebel and in a fluid motion swing the butt of my gun sideways into the head of the second rebel, using the sideways swing to pull the bayonet out of the bloody chest. The third rebel, probably a raw recruit, foolishly decides to male a run for it instead of fighting or surrendering. All I have to do is open fire on the poor bastard. The blood fluids gush out of his chest on the opposite side of the impact point, painting his grey uniform red. I almost do not notice the rebel about to smash my brains in with a hammer.

When I do notice, I hear a rebel skull pop and feel the brains land on my shoulder. I turn around and see a Peacekeeper holding his pistol out from his arm. His voice reveals him to be Montgomery.

"Your welcome."

Together Montgomery and I cut down the side path and join the others at the hamlet crossroads where the rebels have tried to dig in. Down the main road, probably transported in armored trucks, come several german shepherds bound towards the enemy. The dogs are faster than the rebel reaction time, vicious enough to charge head on, and their size ensures the rebels will have to adjust their gunfire to get them.

In the confusion of the rebels, we all charge forward. We chant our battle cry as we advance from three sides. Some of the twenty or so rebels still alive outright start fleeing, but it is not a full route yet.

"TO TRAITORS NEVER YIELD! TO TRAITORS NEVER YIELD!"

The rebels are so panicked that they do not start firing at us until we are within stabbing range. In in melee we are able to stab and butcher the rebels to a man. Roast were cut, lungs impaled, hearts torn to a bloody ribbon in the literal sense.

Now that the skirmish is over, helpers bring in the few surviving war dogs or separate the bodies of loyalists from the those of rebels. As for the soldiers, we do not have a terribly long time to rest.

"Loyal soldiers, those rebels we just killed were an advance company; the main force will be arriving in thirty minutes. Set up defenses and take up positions; we're gonna give these sons of bitches a welcome they'll never forget."

We take this time to make the hamlet a temporary castle. Barb wire winds in rolls across the streets to prevent the rebels from reaching the sandbag barriers being set up to provide some form of cover. Behind these sandbags we set up mounted machine guns, mounted flamethrowers, poison gas nozzles, and mortars. Upon the roofs of the houses and cabins sit snipers patiently awaiting their prey like fishermen on a lazy lake, sitting next to them are rocket launcher peacekeepers ready to blast any armored vehicles. The peacekeepers and loyalist militiamen use this time to reload our guns and take up position in the houses or the sandbags. As a final touch, the Panem national flag is hung from the flag pole and files majestically in the breeze. Now we lie in wait for the enemy.

First, two district 13 motorized bikes drive up the road with machine gunners riding in ... buckets on wheels that appear to be attached to the left sides. We are able to completely mow down both the drivers and the gunners of these vehicles before either of them can focus on us. Immediately behind them are the rebel machine gun infantry mixed in with continental rebels who were obviously handed machine guns just before deployment. Both types of rebel dies instantly and piles up onto the road in heaps.

This is not to say that it is easy for us either; I see quite a few brave peacekeepers or loyalist militiamen fall never to rise again.

I felt my heart stop with cold fear as a grenade flew into not only my position, but also my lap! I did not know what to do, but I was lucky; the grenade was a dud. Just to be on the safe side, I throw it back towards e enemy where it still does not explode.

Though the rebels attack in a constant stream, this fighting is comparatively light to a District 4 or District 8. An armored car bearing the District 13 seal drives up, but the machine gunner on top is felled by our sniper. A rocket launcher hits the windshield and explodes on impact, throwing the car back and crushing the rebels who were unlucky enough to be directly behind it.

Once the rebels are close, we release what remains of the german shepherd unit. Being trained not to attack someone dressed in white, they rush past us and jump over the sandbag wall. The rebels are distracted by the dogs, so all the rocket launcher peacekeepers concentrate their fire on them.

Within half an hour, all the rebels are killed so efficiently that their bits can not be told apart. While I feel sorry for the dogs, I can comfort myself with the knowledge that they would have died sooner or later and that this way they at least went painlessly.

When I look around, all I can see is rubble and ruin: what had once been a peaceful hamlet was utterly decimated. The few houses that remain standing are charred walls and a skeletal frame. Mangled corpses lie in bloodied and mud-soaked piles, some still clutching weapons while others are limp. Dead peacekeepers and loyalist militiamen lie in various postmortem positions on and around the sandbag wall. A grim vapor rises from ground in some places, and the hollow breeze is unable to shake the hamlet of the death and despair that shakes it. The national standard still flies from the crossroads flagpole.

A whole rebel company of soldiers tried to break us, and our flag is still there. The banner of the Peacekeepers, of the Capitol, of the three loyal districts, of Panem; the flag is still there.


	3. Chapter 3:A special mission

The leaves crunch underneath the heel and toe of my boots as I walk with my unit through the forest. We need to remain hidden for now because that's what our orders were.

We are no longer at the hamlet; an even bigger rebel army was on its way there and the damage to the hamlet destroyed most of the strategic value. We blew up the rest of the buildings and left some land mines and antipersonnel mines to slow the rebels before falling back.

Now my unit, along with another unit, are marching in the woods on the fringe of a battle. It is not a skirmish like the one in the hamlet; there is probably a whole peacekeeper legion battling with twice as many rebels. The peacekeepers are dug in, better armed, and in closed formation, making this battle is pretty even as it is. However, the rebels do not know that two peacekeeper units are laying in wait.

We reach the clearing where the battle is raging, and we can see that we are behind enemy line. The commander leading the assault, who is not commander Barca (Commander Barca is in the battle with the main army), tells me to take my quarter of the unit and find the rebel camp at can not be far away. He then leads the rest on a charge at the enemy rear.

I lead my unit away from the battle a bit, until we find what we are looking for. Before us is enough tents to house over half the pre-uprising population of District 12. There are only about forty camp assistants present, so there is not much resistance. Of the forty rebel camp assistants, only sixteen have the brains to surrender peacefully and not try to fight off machine gun armed Peacekeepers with pots and pans. I have four peacekeepers immobilize them; two to focus their guns on them and two to tie them to trees and tie their jaws shut to prevent them from screaming for help without suffocating them. Then the fun begins.

Since the battle is far enough from the road that driving is out of the question, and since the trees prevent hovercraft landing, it is necessary for the rebels to set up camp in the woods. Destroying the rebel camp will cripple this particular rebel force no matter how the battle goes; if they loose then reinforcing rebels can not use the camp, if they win they will loose all their supplies and be forced to make the ling trek back to the road without food or raincoats. The fact that there were already cooking fires set is extremely helpful.

We pile the tent canvases onto the campfires in such a way that the fires are not smothered before they can ignite the canvases. Next we pile the rebels beds, personal belongings chests, and clothes (as well as the corpses of the twenty four camp assistants) onto the now enormous bonfires. Finally, we pile the munitions crates near the fires and lay a trail of lighter fluid to the crates that cause the gas soaked munitions to turn info firework shows. The sixteen prisoners tied to the trees are helpless as they are forced to bare witness to the logistic destruction of their force. All in all, the whole thing took all of two hours.

The only thing we do not burn are the strategic papers in the commanding officers tent: we can use that information. We are about to leave to join the battle when I hear something coming.

"Take cover!"

We all run to a hiding place and watch as several rebel soldiers, about ten seven percent of the rebels I saw on the battlefield sprint with terror to what used to be the camp. The ensuing conversation makes it clear that I have no envy not pity for the rebel soldiers.

"Lieutenant, I ... think we ... lost them. How man- AAAHHHH!" The reaction of the District 13 private can only be described as horror."

"What the blazes is the matt-" The rebel lieutenant is speechless for a moment, before exploding into a blinding rage. During this, he faLos to his knees, starts screaming, and even flings off his helmet and begins to tare out his hair out.

When he is done, he decides to execute ten of the surviving sixteen camp assistants with his combat knife. To say it is gruesome would be an understatement, almost as much an understatement as saying that his decision to mutilate the last six by removing their tongues, ears, noses, or eyes is cruel. We do not stay to watch, but head back to join the rest of the peacekeeper legion.

When we get back, we find the field scattered with dead bodies. The dead loyalist soldiers and peacekeepers are loaded up in trucks to be returned to grieving families, the bodies of dead rebels are stripped of all valuables before being piled onto a smoldering pyre. The smoke of burning corpses is just as bitter as it is sour. When mixed with the metallic sourness of spilt blood, the smell is enough to make a less experienced person vomit. My stomach does not even begin to stir.

Commander Barca walks up to and greets me, his torn uniform and bloody bayonet hint to a hard battle.

"Ah, Major Hardley. It is good to see you are still among the living. I presume your raiding mission was successful?"

"Yes it was sir, the rebels don't even have a single tent left after we got done with them."

"While there are some men hunting down the cowards, but for the most part we killed them. But that's not to say this was easy; a lot of good men lost their lives in the battle."

It is good to know the last rebels are being rounded up; I hope the sadistic rebel lieutenant gets a bullet between the eyes. But I can see that the fight was indeed a vicious one.

"But not in vain."

"Yes, not in vain."


	4. Chapter 4:A bad nights sleep

The day is finally over, and now we have some time to rest. I do not have my personal belongings chest; as they were all sent to the Acropolis for safekeeping. All I kept was my sword and scabbard, the sword cleaners, a spare pare of boots, and my toiletries. All the metals and awards I won, all my reading books, and all the whale bone carvings, pearls, dried coral, and other souvenirs I got from District 4 are with my mother and Annona in the Acropolis.

I am am sitting around a campfire with the others, trying to ignore the peaceful quiet of the night and the chirping crickets; both things that I once enjoyed the sound of but now cause anxiety. I talk with my friends to so that we can all distract ourselves from what our bodies have been trained to believe is calm before the storm.

Harod, who is seemingly perpetually cheerful, speaks first. "Anna said she might volunteer as an army nurse, they could give her basic training. I hope I get to see her if she passes."

Hearing him talk about his fiancée brought out the grandfatherly side of Crispin, "I take it you like her?"

"Well, she is my fiancée."

"Whats she like?"

"Well, she's compassionate, nurturing, smart, thoughtful; I can list off her good qualities for years."

"Well, that's enough for now. What does she do?"

"Anna is a preschool teacher in our town, she loves children."

"An honest profession. How long have you known eachother?"

"We were friends since childhood. I first began to have romantic feelings for her just before the teen years."

"I'd say you found yourself a good one."

I am beginning to become tired, so I retire to the tent. I read a few pages from a book Montgomery loaned me, normally I am not particularly interested in science but there is nothing else to read. I put the book away once it becomes apparent my eyes are insistent on drooping. I fall asleep before I realize it.

* * *

><p>I am standing atop the cornucopia of the 74the hunger games, clad in my uniform and holding in my hand the cavalry saber of my grandfather before me. I am standing next to Cato, who is dressed in his tribute clothes and gripping the gladius he used to slay Thresh. Standing at the other side of the cornucopia is Katniss Everdeen, nervously holding a bow with only one arrow left in it.<p>

I can hear Cato reassure me, "We can still do this. We can still do this: one more kill. Bring pride to our district."

However, before I can advance alongside my cousin and finish her off, a malicious smile spreads across her face. "You won't be bring any pride home, District 2 is dead."

Cato and I turn around and look out. The cornucopia transforms into the the top of the mountain beneath which the acropolis was built. All the clouds clear away and Cato and I are able to see the whole District. We grasp with complete and utter horror.

The central city of the district is aflame shouldering ruins from which black smoke billows up. Statues of heroes and victors from a glorious past are reduced to melted chunks of blackened crude. Despite the smoke, I can still see with clarity the grotesque trauma on the ground. Corpses of men, women, children, pregnant women, peacekeepers, elderlies, babies, and many others blanket the streets and ground and fields; so many rotting and decaying corruptions of what were once human beings who lived and laughed and loved, so many that there is no part of the streets showing.

Even from this height I can hear the echoing of screams that were silenced possibly hours ago; while most screams are primal sounds of someone in pain about to meet their mortality, others are clear and crisp and I have no trouble hearing the sounds of the various lamentations of murdered loved ones.

Beyond the central city, I can see all the burning and smoldering villages and towns surrounded by blazing forests and blackened rivers and decomposing deers. Some villages have ceased to exist all together and are nothing more than piles of ash and charred bones.

Beyond the smoldering woods of District 2, I can see that District 4 died in a similar way. The ocean is black and the bloated cadavers float and bob alongside the skeletons of once mighty steamships and the broken splinters of wooden sailboats. They are feasted upon not by pleasant pelicans or seagulls, but by ravenous flocks of Mockingjays. Gnawing on the rendered flesh and pulling on the blackened limbs are doglike monstrosities; the more I look at them I get the sense they were once human.

It seems that geography is irrelevant, as I need not turn to see the identical death of District 1. Melted statues lie in molten puddles on the ground, buildings that have not outright collapsed into piles of ashen debris are but charred frames. From the frames hang innocents from nooses, women pregnant or otherwise, children, babies, old men, husbands, peacekeepers, careers, too many to count. Once again, dogs that might have once been human gorge themselves on the suffering of others and even pull fallen victors out of the crypt to add to their disturbing feast.

Katniss must have seen these too, based on what she says. "Did you really think I'd stop with my own district?"

I do not know how, but when she says this my vision extends to and fixes upon District 12. It is not even ruins now, it is just a lake of ash and soot. Any bodies or buildings have been thoroughly cremated until there is nothing to distinguish the ashes of human with those of buildings or trees or animal. Even the wind is silenced here, and the lake of ash sits undisturbed. It is clear that nothing will ever live here again, no insect or cell or person; nothing.

Katniss says something tauntingly now, and my blood goes cold. "Saved the best for last."

I can now see mushroom cloud after mushroom cloud plum up and swell with glowing fusion in a place where the Capitol should be; buildings getting vaporized in the flashes of light. There have to be at least a thousand nuclear detonations wiping away the lives of millions. I can hear the agonized wails and screams as countless humans face their last moment in that quick instant. This is to horrifying to watch, I turn back towards Katniss. By the way Cato holds his gladius, and by the scowl of blinding rage that fills his face, it is clear he is also upset. However, I am also upset, so I speak first.

"You monster, why must you do this to innocent people?"

"I'm sending a message: you'll all burn with us."

"I won't let you ever get away with this, you'll answer for your evil!"

"No, I think I'd rather add two more careers to the pile."

With that, Katniss lets her arrow fly, it hits Cato through the heart and he collapses onto his knees. Forgetting the foe behind me, I kneel down next to my cousin whom I grew up with and who I loved as dearly as a sibling.

"Please, stay with me. You're gonna make it. You're gonna make it! Please?!"

By this point I am sobbing to the point where I have to take off my helmet for fear of drowning in my tears. As I hold Cato's hand and we stare deeply into each other's eyes, I can see his bright blue eyes grow cold and lifeless as I feel his muscular hand doing the same. His short and shallow breaths become softer until his chest no longer rises. Soon his skin develops a pallor of death and his arm grows limp and his hand falls from my hand.

"No, no, no no no no no ..."

I repeat this over and over as I sob bitterly beside him. Then Katniss speaks.

"He's dead, I killed him. Hearing his screams of agony while the mutts ate him alive, it was like music to my ears. I liked it so much that I didn't stop there; your mother, his parents, any your girlfriend are also dead."

"no."

" I even gave your girlfriend a special send off; I had the two District 13 soldiers finish what they started when you met her."

"NO!"

"She screamed and cried after the first hour like the whore she is."

"Ill kill you!"

I then reached for Cato's gladius. Once it was in hand, I charged at her with screams of hatred erupting from me. She pulled back her next arrow and was about to fire it at me. This is it, one of us is going to die in a few seconds.

* * *

><p>I am shaken awake from my torment by a friend. I am awake but this was a reminder that no matter how safe or calm I may think I am, the real nightmare is far from over.<p> 


	5. Chapter 5:A time to cry, a time to laugh

I am absolutely drenched in sweat and gasping for air, exhausted from the nocturnal torture. But it left me a parting gift in the form of real fear.

"Ahh"

"Its okey, its okey, its okey. That's good, just breathe in."

"WhereamIandwhatisgoingonIsDistrict2stillstandingwhereismymotherwhereisAnnonaiseverybody"

Montgomery cuts off my stream of questions before I feint, and he answers exact question as best he can.

"You're in a military camp at the outskirts District 2, which is still under loyal control and not at all destroyed. Annona was evacuated to the central city with the rest of your family; they are all safe and healthy. Whats wrong?"

"Nothing. Just a bad dream."

"Want to talk about it?"

I remember my cousin dying before my eyes, I remember Katniss bragging about killing my family and about how rebel soldiers raped my love. I remember my home District getting exterminated as well as Districts 1,4, and 12. I clearly remember the nuclear destruction of the Capitol, and am well aware that the radioactivity released from that could in real life kill every living thing on the planet and end life forever.

"No. Its the last thing in the world I want to talk about."

"That's okey, you don't have to talk about anything you don't want to."

"Did I wake you?"

"I wasn't going to get much sleep anyway."

"Was anyone else disturbed by me?"

"No."

I am sitting upright on top of the bed, Montgomery is sitting next to me. At first I do not speak, but then I build up the ability to ask a question.

"Montgomery?"

"Yes?"

"Do you ever get nightmares?"

"Yes. I have the same one every night."

"About what?"

I was expecting Montgomery to not want to talk about it, but to my surprise he showed no sign of being closed off. His voice was distressed and darkened when he speaks of his fear.

"My parents dying."

I do not know what to say to that. I went through something similar with Cato, but I still have not the slightest idea as to how I cope with the sorrow of losing someone you love dearly. I personally do not enjoy talking about it, and I can only say one thing honestly.

"I'm here if you need me."

"Thank you."

"No need to thank me, that's what friends are for."

* * *

><p>The morning could not come sooner, and we before I knew it I was sitting outside in the temporary mess hall of the woods and filling my empty stomach with corn flavored porridge. I can see that Jacobine was at the table, as was Harod and Crispin. Aric and Helena on the other hand were nowhere to be seen.<p>

I decided to make conversation with my friends, "So, how did you sleep last night?"

Jacobine answered first, "There was a damn owl outside my tent that wouldn't shut up."

This is strange, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but arn't owl hoots supposed to be soothing?"

"Normally! This one must have been hatched upside down because it only made weird shrieking noises."

Montgomery suddenly took interest, "You don't say. It probably has some form of genetic defect or possibly an injury early in development. If I can get a look at it, I can surly take a look at it and find out whats wrong with it."

"Please, be my guest. Just promise me you'll taxidermy the pest once your done with it."

Harod taunted, "I take it someone doesn't like owls."

"I have nothing against owls, just so long as they don't practice their howler monkey impersonations during my sleeping time."

We are interrupted when Aric and Helena join us at the table. They both had messy hair and smelled sweaty.

"Good morning, sorry we're late. We ... slept in a bit."

Little details tell me that those two did more than sleep. We all feel uncomfortable with the Too-Much-Information moment, except for Crispin. The old sea captain tells Jacobine a joke that pokes fun harmlessly.

"Hahahaha. Did Aric ask you for advice beforehand, or did you just give him the talk?"

Jacobine's ... um experiment with the three District 4 women is still talked about around camp. That's more experance than most get at his age, but then again the average person his age is not a battle hardened warrior.

Aric simply says in a faux complaint, "O come on, I'm two years older than him."

"And I'm sixty years older than you, so I'm sure I have the most experience out of anyone here."

Helena chooses the perfect moment to make a joke, "Or you could have none."

This makes us all laugh so hard that I temporarily forget my midnight haunting.

Friends are what get us through it all.


	6. Chapter 6:Partisan

We are marching down a pathway in the woods to rescue twelve loyal soldiers pinned down in a road side tavern. Our strength is about three units, so we should be able to defeat the rebels who are pinning down our brothers in arms.

As we march down the road, we see four hundred or so rebels in a standoff with the loyalists inside the tavern. The tavern looks as thought during more peaceful times it was as warm and inviting place where weary travelers would rest for the evening and have dinner. This is what I imagine, as now it is dilapidated and dusty and I assume has been since the evacuation into the heart of the District.

Neither one is willing to make the first shot to break the standoff, at least not until we arrive. The moment we notice the rebels those in front fire at them while those of us behind the first row of peacekeepers rush to get cover. The loyalists in the tavern take this as the cue to fire at the rebels as well, and those rebels are sufficiently surprised. While most of those not immediately gunned down in the crossfire return bullets, only six or so rebels have the sense to take cover behind rocks or fallen logs. The rest die right there in the street.

Once we surround the six surviving rebels who have all hidden behind a rock, they knew they could either fight and die or surrender and live. Despite this, they still were hesitant out of fear that surrendering would also mean death.

As peacekeeper Major, I did the negotiating. "Come out and lay down your arms, can't you see you can't hope to win this fight?"

"How do we know you won't just off us once we do?"

"Because we're Peacekeepers, the civilized side, the good guys; just because rebels stoop to barbarism does not mean we do."

The leader of the surviving six, a man who judging from skin pigmentation is from District 11, speaks for them. "You, civilized? Bombing a whole District into oblivion is not civilized."

"Do you expect me to believe your Capitol propaganda?"

"No, but you can expect peacekeepers not to be fooled by traitor lies. Look around, if you don't surrender you'll die."

One of the rebels says, "Don't do it, we fight to the bitter end!"

Another rebel, one who can't be older than fourteen, expressed different sentiment, "I think we should do what he says. I don't want to die, I just want to go home."

A third rebel agrees with the second, "I only joined because a press gang made me, I miss my family."

Only one rebel is against surrendering, the rest are done fighting. The rebel leader looks like is is about to give in, but something disrupts the talking down. A grenade explosion erupts from the hands of the rebel who did not want to surrender, killing all six of them and pushing back the three peacekeepers who were standing too close.

Those who were close enough to feel the wind of the blast were shaken, but this no longer surprises me: rebel aggression is just a fact of life now. We take our attention away from the splattering of blood and splinters and limbs that has taken the place of the six rebels- no, five people and a monster. While I do not feel anything now, I know this will disturb me upon later reflection; in some ways that is worse.

We approach the tavern and see fourteen loyal soldiers first look out the window, then leave the tavern. They are dressed in civilian clothes and identifiable only by the white armband they wear. They hold weapons that are ... makeshift, so it is understandable that they scour and confiscate any weapons or ammunition the rebel corpses may posses. Once they are finished and armed with District 13 machine guns, as well as more than enough corresponding ammunition, I talk with their leader for a bit.

Their leader is a nineteen year old man with curly red hair, who's first physical impression gives off a look of boyish youth. Only when he speaks and I hear his bitter voice do I find that the first appearance is misleading. "You, your the leader aren't you?"

"I'm the senior-most officer, yes. Is there something you need to tell me?"

The leader of the fourteen loyalists then pulled out something bundled and tied in untanned deerskin. He handed it to me.

"Give this to the commander and don't open it until your back at camp. Don't give it to a peacekeeper with the order to carry it to commender: give it to him personally. Its for his eyes only.

"Thanks. Whatever it is, I am sure it is important."

"When you get to the crossroads, you'll see the sign removed. Taking the left path will lead you to Solitary Rock, taking the right will take you to Drowning Trout."

"Aren't you coming?"

"We need to clean up the mess, or else some rebel asshole will take a picture of the blood pool and say we fragged them." I can easily imagine rebel propagandists doing this, or rearranging the rebel bodies to say a firing squad killed them.

"Are you sure you'll be okey staying behind?"

"We arn't afraid; we're loyal partisans. Our front is the Mockingjay's rear, and our home is the District 2 forest."

"Well, good luck."

"You too. You keep killing rebel bastards and we'll disrupt their supply lines and pick them off one by one."

So we marched back to camp, and the partisans went to work cleaning the road. We are both fighting the same battle.


	7. Chapter 7:Delivery

We could not reach the encampment sooner, it was already midday. We marched at double speed because if there is one thing we do not want, it is to be caught or ambushed outside the encampment at nighttime. We march on, ignoring the fact that we just saw a rebel suicide bomb his own comrades out of little more than spite.

After marching down a small road through the woods, we finally reach the encampment. We are all exhausted, but I do not allow myself to rest like the others. I head strait for Commander Barca, because I have a feeling in the seed of my gut that this bundle has something vital in it.

After I find him, I explain how a loyalist partisan gave this to me with explicit instructions to personally deliver it to him. He suggests we talk about this in a more private setting. Once we are inside one of the houses of the village that the encampment is build around, we can talk freely.

* * *

><p>"So your sure he told you this was important?"<p>

"Yes."

"Well, let's open it up."

Commander Barca walked over to a wooden desk and laid the deerskin bundle on it. He unrolled the untanned deerskin, and I could see that inside was a stack of papers completely covered with writing. After looking at the papers for a few seconds, Commander Barca wrapped the stack of papers up in the deerskin and got up while handing it back to me.

"Come on, we need to get this to the nearest Headpeacekeeper immediately."

"Where is he?"

"At the Solitary Rock encampment, about three hours down the road from here. We'll need to go fast if we are to get this to the nearest Headpeacekeeper in time."

We went off to the armored cars, and we left in one while three other armored cars followed close behind us to provide security. It turns out we need security.

The cars stop when rebels fire at us with machine guns, but are not piercing the bulletproof shells. We do not wait for their rocketlauncher to get into position, but instead fire back. Commander Barca and I fired out of the slits that served as windows in the car, while the drivers resumed driving while rebels with machine guns shot at us from behind and were gunned down by the gunner who had a seat on top of the armored car and fired from a machine gun that was mounted on the car.

Fortunately, these attackers must have just been highwaymen taking advantage of the chaos to rob travelers while peacekeepers are busy preventing the end of civilization. Most of them are dead now, so I think we sent a clear message to the survivors as to whether or not crime pays.

Our armored car trip goes well enough until we are just forty minutes away from our destination. Then we find a surprise; the bridge leading across a stream has fallen it. The stream is small enough that we can jump over it, but there is no way to get the cars across. This means only one thing; we have to continue on foot.

Commander Barca leads me and half of the Peacekeepers in the armored cars as we get out to continue on foot. The rest drive the armored cars back, and will most likely have to mop up the remaining highwaymen. It is already dark, and and cold, and quiet. The worst part was the quiet, as it felt like the whole of existence was holding its breathe. We walked quietly to avoid attracting attention, but also with haste to avoid being late. Each each minute felt like eternity, each second feels like a lifetime.

I hold the deerskin bundle, inside of which are important papers. We march tirelessly, never stopping. After an hour on foot, we hear growling in the woods. They are most likely wolves, come to dine on our flesh. Commander Barca is still unfazed, but he gives his orders wide and clear.

"Peacekeepers, when I say go, we all fire. ... NOW!"

The wolves jump out from all directions and bound towards us. Without hesitation we open fire in the pack. We fire low, and the bullets hit the wolves and they die without fight. Some whimper and stand on their hind legs before collapsing backwards, others simply let their front legs collapse and pull them forward to the ground the moment the bullet pierces through their skin and embed in the wolves flesh. Once all the wolves are dead, Commander Barca gives the next order with the steadiness all come to associate him with.

"Run."

We all sprint down the road without rest, adrenaline pumping through our veins. My heart beat rapidly with every footstep, and yet I found I did not even slow in the slightest. Eventually we saw the light at the end of the road and knew we found the destination. Once we reach camp, I waste no time.

"Somebody take us to the Headpeacekeeper of this legion! We have inportant information that can not wait."

All the people milling around the camp turn to look at us, and I can bet we must be a sight. Panting, gasping for breath, covered in twigs and branches, and having arrived in the middle of the night. Fortunately, they saw our peacekeeper uniforms and knew we were serious.

One loyalist militiaman, someone who's accent carries a hint of District 1, leads us to a tent completely indistinguishable from the other bunk tents. Across from it is a tent more fitting for a Headpeacekeeper.

"Wait one minute, I'll get him."

The loyalist disappears into the bunk tent for a few moments, then out comes the Headpeacekeeper. He is dressed in a sleeping uniform, but still wears a belt upon which are two handguns and a combat knife. His black hair, which is starting to silver around the edges, is shaven to military regulation and as such not disturbed by sleep.

We introduced ourselves.

"Peacekeeper Commander Larsen Barca."

"Peacekeeper Major Lysander Hardley."

The Headpeacekeeper shook our hands and introduced himself. "Legionary Headpeacekeeper Romulus Thread."

With formalities out of the way, Thread went strait to business. "I trust you came all the way here and woke me up to tell me something important."

Commander Barca, being of higher rank than me, confirms this as fact. "Yes sir, we did. I'm sorry, did we woke you?"

"Yes, but I'd rather lose sleep than soldiers. And if your wondering, I sleep in the common quarters because I am a peacekeeper like them and you. I don't need special privileges or better food."

He leads us into his headpeacekeepers tent, which I can see is basically an office. Rather than tell him, I hold out he deerskin bundle for him to take. He takes it and asks, "What is it?"

Commander Barca answered the question, "It is vital information handed to us by loyal partisans with the instructions that it be handed to you."

Romulus Thread placed the deerskin bundle on his desk and unwrapped it. He sat down, bade us to do the same, and looked through the papers for forty. The placed the papers in a flashing machine one by one and took them our unharmed.

"You were right, it was very inportant information. Its a good thing you brought it, the traitors don't want us to find out the information in the paper and would likely have sent assassins after whoever tried to deliver it if you waited. I just sent a digital copy both sides of every sheet, so now the Acropolis and the Capitol have the vital information and there is nothing the traitors can do about it."

Then he addressed me specifically. "I'm sure you want to know what it said, right?"

"yes sir."

"Well, it's only fair considering how you walked through the woods at night. In those papers were logistic information on the rebels; weapon depots, enemy encampments, supply lines, battle strategy, the locations of POW camps, a list of collaborators, a list of rebel officers, and governing officials in rebel held districts. It also includes a list of rebel atrocities being commit in rebel held districts, as well as war crimes commit by the rebellion and rough estimate as to the number of those killed. You can look at the papers if you want."

"I'm glad we can help bring the peacekeepers one more step closer to defeating the rebellion."

Romulus Thread looked at a framed picture on his desk and whispered, "The damend Mockingjay has taken something from all of us."

I recognize something in his voice, something I feel myself. It is personal for him. Another person who suffers because of the war.


	8. Chapter 8:Early morning

We are allowed to sleep in this encampment for tonight, because tomorrow both encampments are to relocate further into the interior of the district and merge into one large encampment.

Headpeacekeeper Romulus Thread lead us to the sleeping tents, past the sleeping peacekeepers until we got to the empty bunks. Commander Barca and I found bunks and went strait to sleep, Romulus Thread and went to sleep in an empty bunk not too far away; like a true Headpeacekeeper he lives in the same conditions as the men under his command.

I am able to go into a sort of half sleep in which I am still faintly aware of my surroundings, I force myself to stay partially alert not out of any paranoia but rather to prevent my subconscious from locking me in a personally tailored dungeon of my own terror.

I just listen to the muffled sobs of one peacekeeper at the far end of the barracks tent, or to Romulus Thread's shifting his position in his sleep, or to Larsen Barca's content snoring.

Pat one point, I can hear someone walking stealthily. Whoever this is, he or she is clearly attempting to avoid detection so as to carry out some act which has a nefarious purpose. I squint to see who it is, and I hear a crashing sound.

I can hear the click of a pistols safety being turned off, and Romulus Thread saying this. "Hands to your head, one move and I'll blow your brains out."

Me and Commander Barca, as well as all the peacekeepers in the tent, jump out of our beds. Someone turns the lights on. We can all see Romulus Thread sitting up in his bed and holding his pistol aimed at the women who stands in the isle. We all take a moment for our eyes to adjust and for our brains to register what we see. Once we do, we all notice that the women is a peacekeeper.

Romulus Thread asks the peacekeeper in a voice similar to that of a teacher lecturing a truant. "Soldier, what is your name?"

"Peacekeeper Cassidy Smith."

"Why are you in the men's barrack at midnight?"

When she did not say anything, Thread added, "Come on, out with it."

She finally said with carefully chosen words, "I was ... visiting one of the peacekeepers here."

"Sure, visiting. Who were you ... visiting?"

"Peacekeepers Jason Mercury."

Giggling and laughing erupted from the peacekeepers who were awake and listening in.

"Soldiers, this is why the barracks is not coed. Smith, as punishment for breaking curfew and leaving your post without permission, you are to report to the camp center in the morning for eight lashings. We need all our soldiers to stay where they are ordered to. Just be glad I didn't think you were an assassin."

As a peacekeeper walked her off to the brig, the peacekeepers were reacting with amusement. I have to admit, I am able to laugh out of relief that she was not an assassin.

* * *

><p>After a quick meal, we disassembled the encampment and in less than an hour we were back on the road. The peacekeepers are are trained from the start to be the most disciplined and regimented fighting force the world has ever seen. We are able to march to our destination by dinner time.<p>

We have to march through freezing drizzle, but I do not mind the rain. The rain reminds me of my childhood, of growing up in the mountains, of a happiness that comes with nor knowing what it is to fight and to kill and to be the person others will try to kill. I wonder if my grandfather felt this way about district 2, or if it also reminded him of wartime endurance.

I wonder how felt right before a cavalry charge, did he feel afraid that this would be his last battle, or was he exhilarated with the knowledge that he was more alive, or did he treat if as another fact of life and become immune to the horrors of war. I also wonder how Cato felt when he went to hunt down Thresh to avenge his fallen district partner, or when he was climbing up the Nut and knew he still had a chance of winning the battle. I know that before the games began he probably felt something along the lines of confidence, because he had been training his whole life and victory would ,ean being remembered forever.

I know I will never forget Cato, and I will never forgive the people who tortured him to death.


	9. Chapter 9:Setting up camp

We finally reach the inn at a fork in the road where we are to set up encampment, and not a moment too soon. Now comes the hard work.

The Peacekeeper Legions are trained to set up camp in only one hour, and we are able to do it in an hour and twenty minutes with the Loyalist Militiamen slowing our camp building. Trees are then felled and pushed aside to both clear space and establish a perimeter, the wood is used as stakes for the surrounding camp boundaries of for firewood. We are able to clear out the needed space so quickly in part because of modern wood cutting technology. Finally, we set up antipersonnel mines in the woods beyond the freshly cut perimeter; this should give rebels second thoughts about probing the legion encampment.

Once everything is set up, every coil of barbed wire laid out, and every mine activated, we can now rest. Those soldiers of the loyal army who are not on guard shift go to the outside lunch tables to eat now that the rain stopped. There I am able to meet up with the rest of my friends and we can talk about what happened while I was busy delivering information to Headpeacekeeper Thread.

Harod, always thoughtful, asks first, "Lyes, its good to see you still in one piece. Where were you?"

"I got a gift from a partisan while leading soldiers in the woods. I thought I'd share it with Barca, and he decided to share it with Headpeacekeeper Thread."

This seemed to interest Aric, "What was so important about it that it couldn't wait until morning?"

"It was a rebel to-do list. I don't think Johnny Reb would not want the Capitol to see all the horrific things they were doing with Panem."

We talked a bit more, and Harod had to get up and go off on some business, but when I described how explosively one rebel reacted to his comrades wanting to surrender, the table became silent. In an attempt to change the conversation, I asked about some old business.

"Hey Montgomery, did you ever find out what was wrong with the owl?"

Montgomery chuckled,"O yes, yes. I caught the bird and couldn't find a thing wrong with it. Just a regular screech owl."

"Jacobine, didn't you ever hear screech owls before?"

"No, I lived in the district's central city; not many owls there."

There are not any poor people in District 2 who would not be considered part of the upper merchant class of Districts 11 and 12. While life in the city is less physical work, life in the villages is more pristine and idyllic. Of corse, the district is so connected that even those in the farthest most villages can take the public transportation system time city for a day trip, and most living in the homesteads can also afford to do this; though many simply do not bother to.

When Harod gets back, he brings along with him an army nurse who is not short, but appears that way when standing next to someone as tall as Harod.

Harod is practically beaming when he is next to her."Everyone, I'd love you to meet my fiancée. Anna, these are my comrades."

"Hello"

"Hello"

Aric says this, "We already met, remember?"

"Good to see you again Aric, and it's nice to meet you all."

Crispin then holds his hand out; shaking the hand of someone you are introducing yourself to is a common form of greeting. "Crispin Armitage, Militiaman of the District 4 Loyalist Volunteers. It is nice to finally meet you, your fiancé has spoken quite a bit about you."

Anna shakes his hand and says, "Nice to meet you."

One by one, we all introduce ourselves to our friend's wife to be. Once formalities are out of the way, we talk about how we have been holding up. I learn that Anna adapted well to being a nurse for peacekeepers, and that she even saved someone's life.

We do not talk about fighting long, in actual fact we try to talk about literally anything else. If it will distract us from the fact that the civilized world is threatened by a murderous extremist from District 12, we will talk about it. I can almost forget for a moment that there even is a war to begin with, or that my cousin was tortured to death by the two sadists who started the war.

If only for a moment.

In just a few hours I have to head out again to protect the encampment. It is dark outside, and it is cold.

My unit is one of those on the night shift; we need to keep watch over the camp to be sure no rebels try anything sinister. Right now I am at the outside of the encampment, patrolling into the night. With me are some of the other patrolling peacekeepers, while other peacekeepers in my unit are asleep. It is a dark and dreary night, a night when I shiver through to my center. It has a nervous silence.

This silence is interrupted by the sound of gunfire coming from the encampment, and I can see shadows leaving the encampment and running across the clearing. I do not need to be a genius to know what is happening.

"Spies!"

I run after and fire at the rebel spies, with Helena and another peacekeeper who I do not know following.

They fall to the ground, but that is no guarantee that I hit them. For all I know, they fell to play dead and surprise us when we least expect it.

Then I see the blood.

It covers the snow, painting it a color than in this darkness can only be described as deathly black. I can see only two of the four rebels moving; I guess I know how many of them were fatally hit.

"One wrong move and your dead."

The two surviving rebels turn themselves off their stomachs and on their backs, and I can see that they were shot thought the stomach. One of them is only twelve years old, and yet he was still holding a gun.

The older one decides to disregard the warning, "Now!"

Out of the shadows stand rebel soldiers wielding machine guns. A hale of bullets kill some on both sides.

We all get down to kneeling position and fire back at the rebels. More rebels are coming, so we need to get back the encampment.

I shout over the fray, "Fall back to the encampment."

Helena's response: "I'll guard the rear."

As we jog back to the encampment, Helena is constantly turning around and gunning down the multitude of rebels who emerge from the shadows. Once we are enough distance away, she pulls three grenades from her belt and throw them all at the two surviving spies and the rebs who are trying to rescue them.

The explosion knocks us off our feet, but we are able to get back on them and keep moving.

I see the glint of a glass circle in the bushes, and fire at what i am correct in assuming to be a sniper. A bullet flies harmlessly past Helena's shoulder.

The explosion killed most of the rebel guerrillas, and it is safe to say the rest have slithered away like the cowards they are.

When we reach the encampment, there is still work to be done. Some other rebels have barricaded themselves in one of the houses. Many peacekeepers and camp aids are gathered around watching, unsure what to do next.

Commander Barca approaches us with instructions. "Our snipers probably cleared out all the rebels, but we should still send someone to look for booby traps. I can see one peacekeeper walk into the house, searching around for rebel ambushers.

I can hear Harod and Anna talking, the latter reassuring the former. Her voice is so uneasy that it is clear she is also trying to convince herself. "I am sure there is nothing, those rebels are not thorough."

"Are you sure? They can be dangerous."

"True, but I saved enough injured soldiers to be sure that the rebels are too cocky to aim steady."

A small explosion tears through the air, and the next thing we hear is the sound of a District 2 voice calling out for help.

As some try to move out, Headpeacekeeper Thread stops them. "Wait! It could be a trap. I don't want to force anyone to take that risk. At least not without being sure."

What Anan says next confirms all the good things I heard about her. "Sir, if I may; I am willing to be the one to get him out of there."

Romulus Thread looks dumbfounded, Harod is speechless with shock. The Headpeacekeeper asks, "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

"Alright, but be carful."

Before she can head out, Harod grabs her arm. "Please don't, I can't lose you."

"I need to. I know it is risky, but I can't run away. I need to do this for the same reason you march into battle each morning. "

"I love you."

Anna takes off Harod's helmet and kisses him in the mouth. It is a long and romantic kiss, I can tell just by looking.

After this, Anna whispers, "I will always love you."

The combat nurse enters the house, and all is quiet.

Not a cricket chirps, not an owl hoots, not a sound interrupts the still quiet of the night.

Then a large ball of fire erupts from the building, no doubt killing all inside.

Anna is dead.

Anna is dead, and I am sure part of Harod has also died.


	10. Chapter 10:Context

It has been about ten days since Harod lost his fiancée, and he has not even begun to stop crying. We all tried to comfort him, but it was of almost no avail.

Once he got the chance to, Romulus Thread himself went to talk to Harod in private. He entered the room with a solemn expression on his face.

"I came as soon as I could. I offer my sincerest condolences."

He then looked at us in a way that suggested privacy was needed. As we left, I could hear Thread comforting his peacekeeper in mourning.

"Harod, I want you to know you can talk to me about anything. I know how you feel, I too lost someone ..."

This confirms what I suspected when I first met the war hero, but I do not stick around to learn more because my mother did not raise an eavesdropper.

Harod was slightly better after that, but not by much. For some reason Thread was one of the only three people Harod would even listen to, the others being Montgomery and I. Perhaps this is because only those who have lost someone themselves can understand what he is going through. I still do not know who Romulus Thread lost, but whoever it was must have been someone close.

Today, when we sat down for lunch on the fifteenth day, something unexpected happened: Harod arrived to the table and appears to have stopped crying. Granted, he still would not say a word and still he looked sad as all hellfire, but at least this was something. Even if he only stopped crying probably as a result of dehydration, this is still a step in the right direction. The rest of us walk on eggshells to avoid reminding him of his lost love. He says nothing, but eats his food quietly. While he eats, he looks like he is in pain as he swallows each bite like it is poison. The one time he looks up, I can see his waterlogged eyes have lost the sparkle and brightness they previously had.

When we get ready for battle, I see Harod loading his gun and packing ammunition into his belt. Commander Barca approaches him.

"You don't have to fight yet if you don't want to."

"Yes sir. Yes I do. I must."

"Be careful."

"Yes sir."

We pile into the transport truck and it takes us to a town that some of the rebels have occupied.

There is only a skeletal occupation force, so if we retake this town we will cut off a rebel supply line. Then we can fall back when the rebels try to retake the town; tying up rebel divisions with skirmishes is a good way to slow their progress and keep them off the field in important battles.

While we drive down the road, I see that Harod is staring into the reflection of his bayonet. I can not see Harod's eyes through the black visor, but I know his eyes are still the empty eyes of someone who lost their beloved.

We arrive at the town and take the fourteen rebels occupying the place completely by surprise. We kill the first six, but the rest go into hiding.

It looks like this will be a search and kill mission.

We have to comb through every house in order to be sure Johnny Reb does not give us the slip. In order to avoid falling prey to booby traps, bomb sniffing dogs are released to roam the village. The dogs go to any house that holds an explosive, and said house is set on fire and given a wide berth. All goes well, and the rattle of gunfire in the distance tells us when a hiding traitor was found.

I, along with Montgomery and Harod, am looking through one house when we hear something in the kitchen. We rush in just in time to see a rebel escape through the back door. There is an unfinished snare bomb on the kitchen floor. We climb over the wooden fence that the rebels escaped over, and give chase. When the rebels try running away across an open field, I fire two warning shots. When they keep running, I shoot one in the leg and they all stop.

"Stop right there! One wrong move and your dead!"

They stop, and I see they hold no weapons.

"Put your hands in the air where I can see them."

They comply, and we make the three Rebs walk over to a the backyard of a house that was already cleared. I type into my communicator for others to come here, and decide to get some questions answered.

All three of us have our guns pointed at them, and the rebels are kneeling on the ground.

"What were you doing here?"

One of the soldiers looks scared witless, but the other two are stone faced.

The apparent leader answers. "We are soldiers of the Mockingjay's Revolutionary Army."

I correct him. "You are cowardly traitors, and you deserve to hang."

This rebel spits on my visor, and that earns him a square kick between the legs. He reaches his hands to the afflicted area.

Montgomery shouts, "Have your hands where we can see them!"

The rebel instead lets out a pained scream, and the rebel to his right lets out an enraged one and looks like he is about to tackle me or do something possibly worse.

Before he can do this, Harod shoots him point blank in the head. Then, in a split second, he moves his arm to the left and shoots the head of the one in the middle.

We are able to hold his arm and pull the gun out of his hand before he shoots the third in the head.

"Harod, stop."

Harod steps back a moment, and is panting.

"Harod, what was that for? The other two weren't going to do anything."

Harod seems at a loss. "I ... I don't know what came over me. He just screamed and ... and ... I don't know what happened."

Montgomery places his hand on Harod's shoulder, "He let out a battlecry and you took appropriate precaution. How do we know he wasn't about to activate a suicide vest he's secretly wearing? We can't be careless."

We are about to wait for the others, when I feel like something is wrong. I do not know what, maybe just intuition, but I find myself walking to the nearby bushes. I reach in, grab someone, and drag him out by the shoulders.

In his hands is some type of object, which I am quick to rip away from him.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?"

"I'm just a noncombatant."

Montgomery points to the thing I took out of his hand "That's a video cassette camera. You're a war correspondent, aren't you?"

The man kept his mouth clamped shut.

"Don't feel like speaking. Fine, we'll take you to the commander and see if you'll speak then."

* * *

><p>When we get back to the encampment, our little reporter has a word with Commander Barca.<p>

"Just what do you think you're doing snooping around?"

"I'm a war correspondent, the people have a right to know-"

"The people don't need to have information taken out of context and distorted for the purpose of manipulation. Now, let's try this again; what were you doing?"

"I saw what your soldiers did; Peacekeepers are murderers and all of Panem will know."

"I don't know what you think you saw. I watched what's on your camera and all I saw was a possible suicide bomber provoking a Peacekeeper, who then took the right measure to save his comrades. Apart from that, those two dead boys were planting bombs designed to kill medical professionals and noncombatants like you."

"They were made to destroy baby killing peacekeepers-"

"The only baby killers are the rebel bastards who you try to glorify. Well, you're not distorting the truth this time. All recording or filming equipment found in the town was destroyed, and you are being sent off to the prison camp where the higher ups will decide what to do about you."

As two peacekeepers walk the coward out to some unknown fate, Commander Barca addresses the three of us.

"You made the right decision today, there is no room for hesitation. Remember, this is a war."


	11. Chapter 11:Panic off the battlefield

Harod did not stop crying all together. He would still cry himself to sleep every night. And cry in his sleep. And sometimes he would still be whimpering when he woke up. On days where he was not crying, we would all consider it a good day.

However, I noticed something different about Harod. While as he previously loathed being chosen for a firing squad or an execution, now he jumps for the opportunity. Whenever a rebel who was found to have commit a war crime (such as the murder of civilian or a rape), they often receive a trial and an execution. Harod is not just taking one for the team; he seems to enjoy executing rebels and defectors. Unlike the others who are chosen to preform executions, Harod seems to look the scumbags in the eyes as he kills them. I am not being judgmental, as I too would be more than a little pissed if my love died.

Apart from Harod's misery, there have been other events of noteworthiness. The encampment was once again moved deeper into the heart of the district, as the advancing Rebel army forces us to become more and more defensive. On the bright side, all the civilians (and the refugees from Districts 1 and 4), have been evacuated to the great emergency bunkers in the Acropolis.

I hope Annona and my mother are kept safe there. I also hope the same think for Crispin's grandchildren, Aric's nephew, Jacobine's younger brothers, and all the innocent civilians who the rebels would deny mercy.

However, I am afraid. Not afraid of for myself, mind you. I am infinatly more afraid of what will happen to my friends and family. The rebels have made it painfully clear time and time again that they have no intentions of abiding by basic standards of conduct.

Right now, I am pondering all of this while sitting around a campfire during the hour of rest we receive at the end of the day. Today was not what I would call a good day: the patrol I was part of stumbled upon the mutilated and scattered remains of a whole family. From what I heard (from loyalist militiamen who narrowly escaped a similar fate prior to enlistment), the rebels simply got bored and decided a family of refugees would provide the 'entertainment'.

There were so many bloody bits that it was impossible to identify what belonged to whom. We had to bury the mess in a single unmarked grave.

While I try to forget about it, I desperately need distraction. I guess I should be careful what I wish for.

One of the District 2 Loyalist Militiamen approaches me. "You're one of Harod's friends? Right?"

"Yes. Why?"

"If you see him, tell him he still owes me for the coil of rope I loaned him."

What?!

I look up, eyes wide with fear and a little bit of shock.

"Where is he?"

"Just outside the encampment. Why?"

I do not answer his question, but instead sprint all the way to the edge of the encampment.

When the guards stopped me for an ID, I showed it to them as well as asking if they saw a large peacekeeper named Harod. They said they did, and that he was in the courtyard.

Once again they asked why, and once again I ignored them as I ran to the courtyard. My feet hurt and my lungs burned, but I pressed on. Eventually I saw the street lamps in the courtyard, and a mass was hanging from one of them.

As I run towards the mass, I fear the worst.

Soon I see what it is.

Hanging from the rope on the street lamp, it was suspended limply.

It was just a punching bag.

The relief I feel when I see that it was just a punching bag is so much that I fall over flat on my ass.

I did not initially notice that, before he saw me, Harod was bunching the bag with fury and shouting "I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU ...".

When he saw me, he stopped punching the bag and extended an arm to help me up.

When I grip it, I can feel how bloody his hands are from repeatedly punching something.

"Hello Lyes, I didn't mean you."

"So, how are you feeling?"

"I don't want to talk about it. Did you want to see me?"

I can't tell him what I was afraid he did, because it might give him ideas.

"You'll be late for curfew if you don't get back to camp soon."

"Oh. Okey."

"Need any help with that?" I gesture to the punching bag when I say this.

"Sure, I promised someone I'd return this rope once I'm done with it."

We walk back to camp, less than two minutes to spare before curfew.


	12. Chapter 12:Battle in the rain

My arms do not shake as I hold the machine gun, and my feet are steady when I march. We are fighting in a lightly wooded area, and have been for hours. There has to be at least a thousand on each side, but that is a conservative estimate as there can easily be five thousand fighting men on the battlefield total.

Cannon roar, artillery blast, grenade explosions, flamethrowers, barbed wire and poison gas are all being employed by both sides. I think the rebels are employing an inferior poison gas that is derived from chlorine; I know they do not have the red mist.

Right now Harod, Montgomery, Helena and I are taking cover behind the smoldering heap of metal that used to be a tank. With us are two of the six tank pilots who were able to clamber out of the tank after it got set aflame, the other four were presumably gunned down by rebel gunman.

Harod is currently leaning on the side of the tank, shooting his machine gun while screaming with unquenchable rage.

Some peacekeepers have flanked the Rebs hiding behind their tree trunk; our bayonets are fixed and now is our chance to charge.

We run around the tank and charge the rebel position from both sides. "For the Fatherland!"

As I lead the charge, an artillery shell explodes in a cloud of shrapnel nearby, throwing one of the tank pilots into the air. I have no time to check and see where he landed or if he got up afterwards.

By the time we get there, the flanking peacekeepers have been temporarily driven back. We are upon the rebels, and a few shots is all it takes to make the remaining eleven surrender.

One of the tank pilots, who is holding the machine gun of a peacekeeper who was killed in combat, barks at the surrendering rebels.

"Now put you're weapons down."

Most of them comply, but a few don't.

"I said, put you're weapons down!"

One of the Rebs replies. "Why should we?"

Without hesitating, Harod replies.

"This is why."

He then empties his entire clip into the rebels, killing all eleven of them. He then loads another clip into his gun and proceeds to shoot up their corpses until Montgomery tells him that he killed them all. I am horrified, but can not say anything as this is a battlefield and we only cleared out one checkpoint out of hundreds. I have the suspicion I will forget about it after a few more hours.

We reach another tank to hide behind, and this one is still semi-functional; it has lost its cannon but still has working machine gun turrets that is able to rip apart charging rebels. However, a rebel armored car is stationed at a position inconvenient for us.

We all provide firing cover long enough for Helena to crawl on her stomach close enough to the car to lob a grenade under it. While the grenade does not destroy it, it does surprise the machine-gunner sitting on top. She used this opportunity to shot him dead. The bullet riddled rebel slumped out of his seat and fell unceremoniously into the mud.

We charged again. This time there was only one rebel left; one who fired with an old hunting rifle from inside the car. He ran out of bullets, than he ran out of the car.

Harod turned to me and exclaimed with eagerness: "I'm gonna stab his skull in!"

He then gave chase, shooting the rebel in the leg to prevent escape.

The rebel screamed loudly. I bet he wished he had used his last bullet on himself.

"No. No. NNOOOOOoooo!"

Harod walked back to us, his uniform covered in fresh blood and his bayonet had large chunks of brain sticking from the base. In the head of battle, I gave no notice and we headed to the next checkpoint.

On and on we fought; sometimes charging forward and sometimes falling back. It involved a lot of running through mud, and this meant that uniforms that were once white (or in the rebels case grey or non-existent) were turned brown.

In the end of the battle, it was a stalemate. Thousands died on total, and both sides left the field. I don't know about the rebel respect to fallen, but the dead on our side were buried in the same mass grave regardless of their affiliation. We did not have enough time to sort the dead.

We left in the cold drizzle.


	13. Chapter 13:A bad dream

"AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

I wake up screaming as I am shaken out of a very very bad dream. It is a recurring nightmare I have, and it is one of the worst.

The nightmare usually involves me being chained to a street lamp and forced to watch while the two rebel soldiers brutally rape and torture Annona. These horrific nightmares feel like they go on for hours, and sometimes they do.

But now I am awake. It is the middle of the night, my heart is beating faster than any heart should, and I am drenched in sweat. I see that Montgomery is currently standing next to me, a concerned look on his face.

I ask only one question. "Where is Annona?"

Montgomery answered, "Don't worry. Annona is with you're mother in the central city. Everything is alright."

I breathe a sigh of relief, feeling as though a suffocating load was just lifted from my shoulders. Then I realize that the rebels are in District 2, and become sad.

"Montgomery?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think we'll be able defend this place from the rebels?"

After a pause, Montgomery answers. "Yes, I think we can still do it. We are on our home soil and that will grant considerable advantage. "

"I'm sorry I woke you."

"That's okey, I was not getting any sleep anyway."

Even in the darkness, I can see the haggard appearance in Montgomery's face. His eyes are listless and weary. He lost his parents; I should be the one comforting him, not the other way around.

"Bad dreams?"

He does not verbalize his response, but I can see him nodding.

"Want to talk about it?"

"No, but it would be healthier for my psychic if I did."

Even in these times, Montgomery is still the same. I let him continue.

"In my dream, I am an infant again. I am surrounded by parents and their affection."

"What makes that dream bad?"

"It is bad because I keep having to wake up to a world where my parents are dead and my country is in a civil war that I have front row seats to. That I have to wake up and remember how I'm not anyone's son anymore is what makes it a bad dream."

He does not say this with anger or even frustration, he says it with a feeling of defeat and hopelessness.

"No matter what happened, you'll always be their son."

Montgomery is silent for a moment, and suddenly I become enraged at the rebellion for taking so much from so many. I know that Montgomery feels parents were stolen by fate; I know this because I feel that fate stole Cato from me. The world may not be perfect, but all the rebels are doing is making it worse. Given that option, I would rather fight with the Peacekeepers to keep it the same.

I just hope this is a fight we can still win.

Montgomery thanks me for listening, than goes back to sleep. I do not know if he slept or if he stared at the tent ceiling; all I know is that I did the latter.


	14. Chapter 14:Ambush

We wait in position, hidden amongst the trees. An ambush is set, and when the rebel column comes by our trap will be sprung.

A few hours ago, we got a message from one of the Loyalist Partisans; one of them was going to pretend to guide a detachment of rebel soldiers to sneak up on us, when in reality he will be leading them directly into an ambush. Right now, we need only wait for the rebel column to reach the proper checkpoint.

The "guide" stops, and crouches on the ground. We have the signal to fire.

The rebel column is caught off guard, and many are killed right away. Those who are able to turn and fire back.

The bullets are flying both ways, and the sound sure is something else.

I pull out a grenade and fling it at the surrounded rebels, and other peacekeepers follow suit. The loyalist militiamen also throw their grenades, and the chain of explosions reduce the rebel column to a handful of men.

They are crouched behind the corpses of their comrades, and are unable to fire back. I see one of them trying to scream something, but I can not hear them over the firing. I am able to figure out what he is saying via lip reading.

"We surrender! We surrender!"

I realize this and shout to my comrades, "Hold your fire."

The loyal soldiers stop firing, but it is too late. Someone threw a grenade at the surrendering rebels just before I gave the orders to cease fire, and the explosion killed the seven surviving rebels.

Charred and perforated corpses lie all around, the snow is coated with a fresh coat of red.

The loyalist partisan who guided the rebels into the ambush unfortunately did not survive; we found him dead on the ground with the knife of a District 13 corporal lodged firmly in his chest. He died helping the Panem Government protect its people from rebel aggression, so his body was taken back to camp to be processed and buried along with the bodies of the peacekeepers who died in the ambush.

The rebel bodies were stripped of weapons, ammunition, and other valuables, then they were piled into a wretched heap and left to rot; we do not want to waste gas on a flamethrower cremation and digging a mass grave would take too long.

As we began heading back, I got a message on my communicator.

"Major Hardley, head back to the camp right away. The rebels are attacking."

There is no time to loose.


	15. Chapter 15:Friendship

When we get back to the encampment, I can see fighting going all around. Rebel soldiers in District 13 uniforms are assaulting the encampment, and peacekeepers are fighting to repel them.

On one hand, we are behind the rebels. On the other hand, we returning ambushers are few enough in number for an assault from behind to be risky.

I give a quick speech. "Soldiers, if we act carefully we can take the Rebs by surprise."

They nod in agreement, and we sneak up to the rebel line. Once we are close enough (I'm surprised they did not notice us yet), we all throw our grenades at once. Before the grenades even land, we open fire on the Rebs. They turn around and take cover right where the grenades land.

A series of explosions erupt from the rebel line, and most of them are killed. The few survivors throw their weapons down in surrender.

"We give up! We give up!"

A peacekeeper from the defenders side approaches the Rebs, he is holding two combat knives.

The five Rebs line up in front of him.

Using one of his two knives, he very quickly stabs one one rebel in the throat. He then uses the other knife to slit the throat of the next Reb, then he partially decapitates the third by stabbing his spinal cord. This was all before any of us can react.

Next the last Reb tries to run; he gets a knife in the back.

We back away in shock from the peacekeeper. What just happened has not yet sunk in, so there was not enough time to be horrified.

Holding his two bloodied knives nonchalantly, he explains himself. His voice reveals himself to be Harod.

"I didn't trust them."

Before I can say anything, another peacekeeper runs up to us.

"This side is secure, but we need you to reinforce the far side. There is a bigger rebel force over there."

Completely forgetting what just happened, we all run to the far side of the encampment.

The rebels there are fighting fiercely, as are the Peacekeepers.

However, it seems that just a few extra men can tip the balance. We take up positions, and fire our guns.

The Rebs will pop up from their cover just long enough to fire at us; sometimes we are able to hit them.

I am so busy firing at them that I do no notice the rebel who fires his machine gun directly at me. Fortunately, Harod does.

"Get down!"

After the rattle dies down, indicating that the rebel also died, I thank Harod for pulling me to the ground and out of the way of the gunfire.

We fight some more, and the day gets late. Soon the Rebs run out of patience; the entire rebel battalion charges our position.

While most of us are low on ammo, we have bayonets. Standing behind the sandbag walls, we spear and club and stab at the rebels. One rebel soldier tries jumping at me from the side with a knife; I swing my bayonet to the left and spill his guts. Another tries activating a grenade at me from close range, and again Harod saves my life by knocking it out of the rebel's hands with the but of his gun. Again, I thank him.

The grenade bounces into the ranks of the rebels, killing many of them.

We are fighting, and it is not until reinforcements from another part of the encampment arrive that we can drive the Rebs back.

The reinforcements fire at the Rebs until it is clear that they are running away in panic.

Then Harod reloads his gun.

Pointing at the fleeing enemy, he unloads his machine gun into their backs and their legs. It echos through the otherwise quiet clearing, and soon Harod starts to scream as he cuts down the fleeing and currently harmless enemies.

"I'll kill every last one of you! I hate you! I HATE YOU!"

This time I am able to react. The first thing I do is nod to the others to guard us so the Rebs don't attack while I'm distracted. Walking up to Harod, I rip the machine gun from his hands.

"Harod, you need to stop."

"NO! I WONT STOP UNTIL EVERY MURDERING REB IS WIPED OUT!"

He tried to pull his machine gun out of my hands, but push him back. Throwing his gun on the ground behind me, I grab him by the shoulders and shake me.

"Harod, you have to snap out of it. You're letting your desire for revenge driving you crazy. Would Anna want you to be stabbing POWs? Would she want you to let yourself turn into someone else?"

Harod breaths in, and I brace myself for his probably furious rebuttal. That's not what happened.

Letting out a loud wail he began to sob, much in the way that a baby sobs. I am in no way insulting him; it is simply a statement that he probably feels helpless. I hold out my arms, and when he hugs me and sobs on my shoulder I hug him back.

While he sobs and wails, I simply provide support.

"Shhh shhhh. Its okey, we're gonna help you get through this. We're your friends: we'll always be here for you."

He is sobbing, and I provide the comfort and friendship he so desperately needs.

I do not notice that one of the Rebs, one who was injured during the hand-to-hand combat, has pulled out his pistol.

At first, all I notice is a loud bang sound.

Harod's body falls limp.

While one of the other peacekeepers runs up to the injured yet murderous rebel and uses the butt of a gun to bash his head into a paste, I lay Harod on the ground.

Gingerly I take off his helmet, then my own. I hold his hand, and he has enough time to look into my eyes before they grow dull. His hair is matted with sweat, his face is stained with tears, and his skin is pale. This is the last time I am ever going to see my friend.

Now it is my turn to cry.


	16. Chapter 16:Goodbyes

Last night, I explained to my friends that Harod was dead. When I told the story of Harod's last day, our sentiment was the same: we failed him. We should have seen the warning signs, we should have acted to get him the help he needed. Because of our failure to look after him, he is no longer with us. All we can do now is honor his memory by being sure to learn from our mistakes.

Romulus Thread offered his condolences and gave us permission to go to the morgue and see his body. We were all able to say our last goodbyes. His body was covered by a long white sheet, so nobody could see his face; this was probably for the best, as I doubt the others will benefit from their last memories of Harod being his cold dead body. We went one at a time, so as to be able to spend time alone with him, and so I have no idea what the others said.

I spoke to him last, and I was still sobbing. I looked at his thankfully covered body for only a few seconds, then I turned away. I did not leave the room but instead sobbed for some time. Once I was able to whimper our some words, I turned around. Still unable to face him, I tried to close my eyes: once an image of his dying body flashed through my mind, I opened my eyes and stared at the floor.

"Harod, I would like to say that I am sorry. I was your friend, and I could not be there for you when you needed it most. I wish you were still with us, and I am sure that if you were you would have gotten the help you needed. My mom once said that when people we love die, they are never completely gone. She said that they will always be with us in our hearts. I don't know if that's true, but I miss you."

Again, I sobbed bitterly. Once I was done, I said some parting words. "I don't blame you. I know that you were never evil, that you only needed to be reminded who you are. I just want to say that I love you. You were my friend and I love you. Goodby Harod."

As I crawled back to campfire, Romulus Thread handed me a picture. It was a picture of Harod with his wife Anna; they both looked happy together. He said that it was no trouble, that he just photocopied it from the one that was found in Harod's pocket: after which he put the original back with Harod's other things. His things, like him, are to be sent back to the central city where his family will get his things and his body will be buried.

I sat around the campfire with my remaining friends, drinking alcohol rations and and singing mourning songs. Barring Aric and Helena (who sneak off to some hidden corner for obvious reasons) one by one we head to bed and sleep.

I do not have a good nights sleep, that much is assured.


	17. Chapter 17:Setting up camp

Once again we are on the move. Since the rebels are once again advancing, we must push further into the heart if the District. The further inward we go, the more fortified our position; hopefully it will be fortified enough that the Rebs can't push us back any longer.

Like always, we leave some gifts for Johnny Reb so they can't use the spot we were in. These gifts include land-mines to blow the rebel vehicles to bits, barbed wire to cut them to bits, and anti personnel mines to blow the rebel infantry to bits.

As we ride trucks down the road to the next destination, we can see signs of war all around. Each village and hamlet we pass is completely abandoned, and most of them have a rather large cemetery. Taverns and restaurants that were once prosperous look eerie without anyone inside. On rare occasions we will see some sign of activity by either rebel guerrillas or loyalist partisans, it can be as small as a footprint in the mud, or as big as a corpse hanging from a tree with a sign explaining that his or her death is from supporting the wrong side.

We have to ride on the rode for a long time, but we eventually reach the location. When we do get there, we find another Peacekeeper Legion is already waiting for us; apparently we will be merging our numbers.

After we finish setting up camp and settling down, I see that this encampment is enormous. It is more of a small town than a temporary camp. How Romulus Thread is able to manage this is a mystery, but I am thankful he can handle such a Herculean task.

The rain sets in, so we eat our meals inside. It is in a big tent which serves as a mess hall.

Tomorrow we will have to fight more rebels. There are so many, and we are outnumbered, but I still have hope. Underdogs like us have won before, so I hope this is one of those cases.


	18. Chapter 18:Second Ambush

I am leading half a unit of soldiers through the woods to try and find and destroy a rebel observation outpost. These are not my regular soldiers, they are probably men from the other legion.

We are just on a simple mission, so I expect nothing to go wrong. However, something feels wrong.

I hold up my hand for the other peacekeepers to stop.

"Stay back."

I assumption is correct, and we are attacked on all sides by rebel gunfire.

"Everybody down!"

I am able to get down, as are seven or eight other peacekeepers. However, the rest are murdered before my eyes.

I pull out a grenade, nod to the other peacekeepers, and we all throw grenades in all the different directions.

The explosions give us enough time to make a run for it, but not enough time to turn around. We run forward hoping to circle back to the encampment when we get the chance. In our panic we end up leaving behind our machine guns.

We run as fast as we can, though it becomes apparent that the ambushers were already killed by the grenades. However, it is not long before we are encountered by more rebels.

They immediately gun down three of my Peacekeepers before any of us can react, but we are able to take cover.

Whenever the Rebs run out if ammo and need to reload, one of us ducks out from behind a tree to fire at him or her with our pistols. Since the Rebs are sloppy and careless with their ammo, we have many chances to take shots at them.

A rebel is fumbling with a jammed machine gun magazine: I shoot him in the head.

A rebel is firing at one of my comrades: I shoot him in the throat.

A rebel who's organs were shot out is clutching at them: I shoot him in the forehead while remembering what happened the last time an injured Reb was unnoticed.

A rebel is cowering behind a rock: the first thing he sees upon sticking his head up is my bullet, which promptly splatters his head.

It is woefully clear that these Rebs are fresh recruits; this is probably their first combat experience. For many of them it is also their last, one example being the poor son of a bitch who tripped and fell on his gun while he was firing it.

Eventually, they must have ran out of bullets because they charge at us. We fire at the Rebs, killing eight of them.

When the rest come, I draw my sword. The first thing I do is separate the head of one rebel from his shoulders, courtesy of a sideward swing.

Using the backward momentum, I hack open the back of the next rebel. While my comrades are using their knives, I am hacking rebels left and right.

Soon there are no more left in this area.

We do not have enough time to collect guns from the dead bodies, as a detachment of even more Rebs are coming this way. I do what any good commander would do.

"Go without me, I'll hold them off."

"Are yo-"

I cut him off before he can finish that sentence, "yes I'm sure, now go."

Now I am all alone, alone to face he rebel horde.

I expect them to kill me, but that is not what happens. Instead, they surround me and threaten to shoot if I don't lower my weapon.

I am well aware of the fact that an attempt to charge them will result in my being killed and them living. Yet I remain prone.

Eventually, one Reb rips the sword from my hands (with the help of some of his friends), and after forcing my hands behind my back he keeps them there with a handcuff.

I am now a prisoner.


	19. Chapter 19:Noncooperation

The rebels march me through the woods, away from my encampment. My sword is currently in the hands of their corporal; I am going to have to kill him and get it back at some point.

As we walk through the mud, it becomes difficult to continue. Still, I know that if I do not than I will surely be murdered right here on the spot. Not wanting to help the rebel cowards, I walk as slow as I can get away with walking; passive aggressiveness is a good quality for a Prisoner Of War to have if he wants to retain loyalty to his side.

As a result of the black bag they placed over my helmet, I can not see a single thing. This is really unfortunate, as it hinders my ability to circle back. However, we are so far into the center of the District that I seriously doubt they can make me walk out of District 2 in a single day: with that in mind I will proceed to freak the fuck out should I be loaded onto any hovercrafts or trains.

In order to prevent such a state of mind right now, I focus on the positive aspects of my situation. I still know where my sword is, I am still alive, my comrades escaped, and I still have my armor and uniform on.

Occasionally the person leading me will shout back for me to be quiet. "Shut up, the whole damn forest can hear you."

"Maybe I'd be able to see where the twigs were if this bag wasn't on me."

"I said shut up!"

I close my mouth, and mentally imagine decapitating this fool.

At one point, we cross a stream. The water soaks completely through my pants, and contact with it causes me to release a bladder that I was holding for the better part of seven hours. Unfortunately, I let it loose after I am already out of the water.

"What smells like piss?!"

Another rebel answers, "I don't know, probably a deer."

I do not say anything, but I smirk at the thought that I could make is trip unpleasant for the rebels.

At one point, I accidentally get my handcuffed arms caught in a branch. Now it was a legitimate accident, as it would be impossible to engineer this while blinded. However, i decided to ignore the fact that it would have been easy to get loose from the branch: I figured why not let my captors do all the work.

The captive leader, the douche who has my grandfather's sword, pulled me roughly from the branch. However, when the branch snapped it swung into the eyes of the person behind me.

"Son of a bitch! Watch it Martin!"

"I'm the corporal, I can do what I want."

"Oh shut up. The only thing you have us beat at is 'record for being able to shove your head the farthest up your own ass'. You couldn't tie your own boots."

I somehow think the record named by the rebel soldier might not be a literal method used by District 13 to promote leaders. Though it might explain why the Mockingjay has such a shitty worldview.

My numerous thoughts are interrupted by the loud bang of a pistol, followed by the thud of a corpse collapsing on the ground behind me. What the rebel corporal says next dispels any possibility that it is a sign of rescue.

"See that? That's what happens when you question superior officers. Understand?"

The other rebel soldiers just mutter in agreement. We stop for a few minutes while the Rebs strip their dead comrade of his weapons, ammunition, personal possessions, and clothes. I hope they left some of his clothes on: leaving a corpse naked in the woods is pretty undignified.

It is a shame it did not devolve into a fight; if the Rebs killed each other than I could just get these cuffs off and run away.

"Let's go; we can't carry him and the wolves will do the work for us."

We keep walking, and we gradually get slower. My pants are still wet, and the scent of ammonia is probably annoying the Rebs.

After some hours, it is so cold that I think it is nighttime. Screech owls and howling wolves frighten the rebel soldiers, and they stay close together. I stomp my feet, being sure to create noise. While it might not attract a pack of wolves or foxes, it will scare the Rebs and put them on edge.

After a while, the fun ends. They push me forward and rip my bag off my helmet. I can see that I am still in District 2. This must be a temporary POW camp; probably capable of holding more or less forty POWs. It is clear it was built during the war.

The camp consists of three buildings. The smallest is a long wooden cabin where I and other prisoners are put in cages and separated from each other by fabric. The other buildings are the square cabin where the rebels stay, and another cabin that acts as the kitchen. I can see benches in the far end of the clearing; perhaps a tent is set up there. When I asked corporal trigger-happy, he said that was where a 'reeducation school' is set up.

They march me to the cabin that will be my cell and feel in my pockets for anything they can get their greedy hands on. My sword is the only personal item that is not back at the encampment; the stuff that is there will probably be sent back to Annona and Mom. It will probably crush her when I am reported Missing In Action, but I hope she can hold on until I escape.

While there have been stories of rebels raping POWs, no funny business takes place here. I guess from the brainwash station that these Rebs are trying to figure out my alignment before deciding how to proceed. I might need to be careful.

Once they leave, I think about how I am going to kill them all.


	20. Chapter 20:Reeducation

"No!No!No! You're doing it wrong!"

Apparently the 'teacher' does not like what I wrote down. I am having lessons in the 'school' on why the rebellion is supposedly correct in every way; these lesions are little more than the 'teacher' ranting for hours on end while I am required to take notes. I guess my notes were not up to his standards.

"Is something wrong with my notes?"

"Yes, your notes show that you are resistant to our cause. Why do you maintain your loyalty to the tyrants? Don't throw your life away for greedy Capitolites."

I just roll my eyes. He does not like that my notes that my notes have the word "supposedly" in front of the BS facts he is spouting. Still, I have not done much else to make these assholes think I'm loyal to the old regime.

Among the lies these rebels are unsuccessfully trying to plant in my head are that the rebellion is improving the quality of life for district people, the families of several victors were murdered by peacekeepers, District 12 was really destroyed by the Capitol, and victors were forced into prostitution. These claims bare no resemblance to reality in any way, so I can see that they are just rebel propaganda.

When I watch the lessons the rebel soldiers get, I am convinced most of the falsehood of it by how the rebel soldiers react. They do not question, they do not think about it, they do not ask "why"; they just repeat and believe.

So far my week has been spent as the sole prisoner in this small camp. My diet has consisted of inedible grain mush and small sips of water, though it is hard to keep down I force myself to eat it because I need to keep up my strength.

The cage I am in is cold and drafty, and there is barley enough space sit curled up in a ball. I have one bowl to eat from, and if I have to use the restroom I need to ask the guards first and hope they are not in an asshole mood.

I was stripped of my armor, but at least they let me keep my uniform. They don't know how to use my communicator, and it is sitting in a crate with my other things. The crate is all the way next to the barracks.

My sword is currently in the hands of one of the prison guards; the corporal does not know how to play high-low jacks or gamble in general. I still will need to kill someone if I want it back.

I have several methods to keep moral high; I remind myself who I am every hour, I think of what Cato would do in this situation, I think of what my grandfather would do in this situation, and I remind myself that Peacekeepers do not give up.

I need to keep my moral high because the news the rebels give me, while probably pulled out of their asses, is still terrifying. They claim that the rebels have taken most of,the central city and the Peacekeeper army is cornered in The Acropolis. I have no non-rebel source to ask, so I am forced to assume that the situation is still stable and the Rebs have not set foot in the Central City.

I have still not given up the hope of escape. I want to escape, that much is true. I will remain focused on my surroundings so that when the chance comes I will be ready.


	21. Chapter 21:Dialogue between opposition

I am sitting in my cage, eating my one meal for the day. A rebel guard walks in and, handing me a multi page packet, tells me I am to fill it out.

"You are to answer the questions on this packet, and then return it to me so I can give it to the corporal."

"Why?"

"Because I said so?"

"I'm not going to betray my comrades."

"You are no longer a soldier. You are a Prisoner Of War in the revolutionary army of the Mockingjay. Do not die for the sake of greedy Capitolites."

While I do not have a clock or a watch with me, I can tell it is time to lie through my teeth. I still will not make it easy for the rebels.

"What will I write with?"

He hands me a pencil.

"What will I write on?"

He walks all the way back to his cabin and back, returning with a clipboard.

First I decide to read through all the questions first. Since there are forty pages worth of questions, this takes a long time. I can see the rebel guard getting agitated, and I struggle to repress a smile. This is working better than I expected.

It takes a whole day to read the packet; I falsely told him I was a slow reader, and the stupidity of these questions make me think they can believe that.

When I do write down a plausible backstory (complete with a fake name, made up origins, and falsely ambiguous personal allegiance, and a lie about being barley literate), I would break my pencil lead after every ninth word. This requires the increasingly antagonistic guard to walk all the way back to the barracks, get a new pencil or sharpen the old one by hand, and walk all the way back.

On the hundredth time, the guard brought me a pen. It took some thinking, but I broke that too and spilled lots of ink on my answered questions. When the openly hostile guard brought me a fresh packet, he instead decided to have me dictate so he can do the writing.

I was able to dictate my lies very slowly, often telling him to go back and change things only to have him change them back.

I am not doing this all day; I am forced to spend the rest of the day listening to rebel propaganda at the 'school'.

The teacher is going off on a tirade as to why the uprising of the Mockingjay is so glorious and how it will lead Panem into a new golden age. I know I should avoid twisting the tail of a rabid lion, but I still decide to pull apart his rehearsed speech with a gentle tug.

"Sir."

"Yes?"

"I have one question. If the Mockingjay' uprising is so good and is supposedly welcomed by all the district people, then why are the civilian populations of the three career districts opposed to it? Why are men, woman, children, and babies making great effort to get as far away from the rebels, often leaving behind every single worldly possession they have and risking their lives in a mass-exidos? If the uprising is so great, why don't those people welcome it?"

This left the teacher speechless. He left to ask the corporal, who presumably was also speechless. I have no idea how far up the chain of command they are going to go, but it is good to see that the rebel ideology is not as air-tight as claimed by the rebel guards.

Later, when I am taken back to my cell and allowed to take the rest of the day off, I see that the rebel who is guarding me (a different one than the last one) looks awfully young.

"Sir?"

"What is it, peacekeeper?"

Ignoring the venom in his tone, I continue. "How old are you?"

"Thats not your business."

This is not a shocker, as I saw child soldiers on the battlefield many times. It is still not right.

"Arn't you a little young?"

"If I'm old enough to die for the entertainment of greedy Capitolites, I'm old enough to carry a rifle."

"You don't even look old enough to volunteer as tribute."

He does not say anything, so I ask another question. "Do you really believe we bombed District 12?"

"Who else could it be?"

"District 13."

"Take your peacekeeper propaganda and shove it up your ass."

Well, I can see talking is pointless. Take your rebel falsehoods and shove it farther up your own.

I really can not wait for a chance to escape.


	22. Chapter 22:Death struggle

Today started out as a normal day in the prison camp. The guard who has my sword unlocked my cage while another guard handcuffed me and began to walk me out of the cabin to the school. My hands are cuffed in front of my torso so that I can use a pencil. Everything is normal.

Then it happened.

I heard grenade explosions and gunfire in the woods, and I saw rebels rushing all around.

"The loyalists are attacking!"

Rescuers. This is good.

"You, kill the peacekeeper and be out shortly."

"Yes sir."

This is not good.

The rebel who has my sword obeys his order while the other rebel goes out to join his comrades on the battlefield. He pulls a combat knife from his sheath.

I do not freeze up, nor do I stand like a paralyzed deer awaiting his fate.

I attack first.

Catching the rebel off guard, I grab hold of the knife.

He is able to push me off of him and swings his knife at me.

I dodge back.

He swings his knife left to right.

I step back again.

He swings his knife down at my head.

I raise my handcuffs up, blocking the sharp blade.

My cuffs do not break, but I am able to grab hold of the knife.

The rebel soldier kicks my legs out from under me.

I still do not let go of the knife, so we both go down.

We wrestle for the knife, neither one being able to get the other one to let go.

He headbutts me, and I begin to feel dizzy. I still do not let go of the knife.

I roll on top of him and he sits up.

My hands are still holding the knife while my arms are around his arms and torso.

I kick his back away from me while letting go go the knife, being sure my handcuff chains connect with his throat.

The momentum makes him throw his knife out of reach. He tries to crawl to it but I hold him back. I tighten the chain around his throat.

He gives up on the knife and starts to clutch at his bleeding throat. I keep holding tight.

He is gasping for air, and I still hold steady.

Eventually, his gasps and struggling grows weaker and weaker.

Eventually they stop.

After some time, I feel comfortable enough to loosen my grip.

His face was pallor stricken, and blood was flowing from his throat and his mouth.

I do not know why I felt his pulse: it was not a conscious decision.

He is dead.

Mechanically, I untie his belt and take it (and my sword) off him. I then tighten the belt and sword around myself.

I take a few breaths, I will need to go out to help the loyalists soon.

But for now I let my breathing return to normal.


	23. Chapter 23:News

Struggling with the knife, I am able to break the handcuff chains. Once that is done, I charge outside with sword in hand.

I see combat all around. Any ranks that might have existed have broken down, and fighting is all throughout the camp.

Using my sword, I impale a rebel soldier who is locked in a melee with a loyalist partisan.

I then swing my sword to spill the guts of a Reb who tries charging at me with an upraised combat knife.

I kick the dying Reb away, and use the handle of my sword to crack open the skull of another Reb.

On and on, the fighting goes. We keep fighting until the Rebs are fleeing, at which point a third of the loyalist partisans give chase.

The second third of the loyalist partisans to through the camp to look for anything they can use.

The remainder of them sit down on the grass and rest. All except their leader.

I recognize this man; he gave me the package of information so long ago. It is good to see a familiar face, that much is true. I do not know if he recognizes me, but I what he tells me lets me know why he was here.

"Well, it looks like we found the peacekeeper."

"You were looking for me?"

"We were looking for camps like this since the war came here; you being captured was really lucky for us."

"Glad to help ..."

"Thank you. Is there any other way we can help?"

"Yes, you can show me which direction the peacekeeper encampment for the seventh legion is?"

At this, the partisan looks uncomfortable. "Err, they moved farther inland six days ago."

"What?!" I can not believe this. Any hope I have of regrouping with them in a fast manner is gone up in smoke.

While I sit down in shock, the partisan leader explains everything that happened while I was gone. Most of District 2's civilian population moved into the Nut to escape the rebels, rebels have taken over half the central city, and we are behind enemy lines. He did not know about Annona and Mom, but he said that they are probably in the Nut.

"Any other questions?"

"Yes. What is your name?"

"My name is Honos Jacobson."

I sit down in a sort of dazed shock for about ten minutes, not moving when the loyalist partisans move my armor and other battle stuffs out of the crate and place it next to me. Eventually, I start to stir.

"You want to change in privacy?"

"Yes, that would be ideal."

In the cabin that is no longer my cell, I put on my armor, my boots, my helmet, and my other things. The partisans give me one of the District 13 machine guns and some ammo for it; they tell me it is not too different from peacekeeper machine guns but I find that it takes getting used to.

When the others return from the woods we pile the rebel corpses into a large pyre in the center of the camp, then we leave it burning and walk away. The loyalist corpses are given unmarked graves far from the camp.

I guess now I am heading with the loyalist partisans into the central city. Once there I can rejoin the fighting.

Hopefully I can make life that much harder for the rebels along the way.


	24. Chapter 24:Behind enemy lines

We spent the whole day marching down the roads. I was given civilian clothes and a backpack to carry my uniform and armor in; this way I will not stand out an we can be hidden in plain sight.

As we march through the area, I am horrified by what I see has happened to my beloved home district. Villages and hamlets are either abandoned or ransacked or burnt to the ground, statues to war heroes and victors were torn down or otherwise vandalized, peacekeepers and civilians who were unable to escape were hung from trees along the road.

The worst past is that the loyalists who are hung on the road either have rebel signs around their necks, or show clear signs of mutilation.

Occasionally they would see a rebel convoy or a group of rebel soldiers marching along. Sometimes they would wait in the woods surrounding the road and ambush a convoy if it was small enough to be feasibly defeated.

Sometimes, if we see rebel soldiers guarding a checkpoint, we will have to go into the woods and march around them. Sometimes we have the ability to bluff our way bast them. In any case, the checkpoints are too heavily guarded for us to be able to full on attack them, and hit and run assaults will just slow us down.

Eventually, it is nighttime. We have to sleep, so we go out into the woods far enough that the rebels on the road will not see or even hear us. This way we can be alone.

Once we are in a safe spot, we eat dinner. Dinner is nothing special, just boiled canned beans; but after ten days of terrible grains these beans taste like a victors feast.

After we eat enough beans to fill our stomach, we watch the campfire.

At first, we were just talking. One of partisans or another might describe what caused them to fight against the rebellion, or they might talk about a relative who was killed by rebels, or they might describe what they will do once the war is over. Conversations about the latter range from eating a big meal to sleeping under a roof to sleeping with an attractive girl they know.

The conversation then turns to politics. It was mutually agreed that the Rebs should be thrown out of District 2, the Mockingjay should be hung, and her traitor friends should be shot.

Eventually, we grew board with this topic, and the campfire grew silent for another moment.

At some point, we started singing; it helps keep the spirits high and calms the nerve. The first song we sang was called 'The Loyal Militiamen' *. The instrumental part was played by one partisan who had a harmonica. No points for guessing which group invented this song. It it goes something like this.

_"For battle prepared in the country's just cause:_

_The Capitol's defense and support of its laws, _

_As fierce as a tiger, as swift as a bow, _

_Lethe loyalist partisans charge on their foes."_

_Instrumental_

_"Though rebels unnumbered oppose the Careers,_

_their hearts are undaunted, they're strangers to fear,_

_No obstacles hinder relentless they go, _

_And death and destruction await their foul foe."_

_Instrumental_

_"The alarm of the drum and the cannon's loud roar,_

_the grenade's quick flash but inflames them the more,_

_no dangers dismay them, they fear no control, _

_but glory and honor inspire every soul."_

Instrumental

_"Whenever the foe stands arranged in their sight,_

_with utter impatience, they pant for the fight,_

_rout, havoc, confusion: they spread through the field, _

_and rebellion and treason are forced to yield."_

Instrumental

After the song, we eventually go to sleep. Someone watches us, ready to wake us if any Rebs are nearby.

It is surprisingly easy to fall asleep in the cold woods, and I do not know if I should chalk this up to having walked all day, or how comfortable it is compared to a cage. Either way, I fall into a deep and dreamless sleep until morning.

* * *

><p>Authors Note: *The song is based off the real-life song British Light Infantry, which was sung during british soldiers during the American War of Independence.<p> 


	25. Chapter 25:Monsters

We get up with the sun, and return to the road.

We expect to see some more of what we previously saw; what we found was much worse.

Off to the side of the road, sprawled across the ground and soaked in blood, we found the corpses of a family. A husband, a wife, two boys, and one girl. The children can not possibly be older than fourteen, if that.

The husband lies face down in a dried pool of his own blood, a bullet hole carved firmly from the back of his skull. His wife lies nearby, also shot in cold blood. By the looks of the rest of their family, it is clear that they got off lucky.

The oldest son, who looks sixteen, is tied to a tree with his head slumped down presumably in death; by the position he is in suggests he was forced to watch what happened next.

His younger brother lies decapitated nearby, and next to him is their equally dead sister. The way her clothes are torn off implies a gruesome story; it is clear that before she died she suffered a fate worse than death.

Even if the culprits were not obvious, they carved the words 'rebel justice' over the head of the sixteen year old.

With sickened horror, I fall to my knees and vomit on the ground. I can feel the bile burning out of my throat, and I can feel the anger and hatred burning in my chest.

I am not the only one to do so.

Even if we had time to bury the dead, we do not want to hide this. We want everybody to know what kind of monsters these rebels are.

Honors calls to one of the other partisans. "Brutus, get the camera out."

Brutus, who confirmed last night that he was named after the deceased Victor, takes the camera that he told me last night he stole from a rebel reporter whom he mugged two weeks ago. While he is still shaking, he is able to set it up.

From behind the camera, Honos explains what the rebels did here. He makes sure the carving the rebels left is caught in the recording.

After we finish recording, we untie the boy and place a jacket over his dead sister.

As we are untying him, the boy begins to move. He's alive!

Upon seeing his dead family, and remembering what he witnessed possibly even hours ago, the boy feints from shock.

Honos, who is still shaking with terror, carries the boy in his arms.

We walk away from this foul place, further down the road. Eventually, the person walking point bids us stop. To the side of the road, less than ten miles away from the dead family, we find the perpetrators.

They are about six rebels, so we easily outnumber them. I can see that their District 13 uniforms are splattered with blood. From their conversation, we can confirm that they are the monsters who murdered a family in cold blood. After making sure there are no other Rebs else around, Honos whispered to me.

"Are you up for some revenge?"

I nod.

We all agree on how we are going to attack, and quietly we get into position.

Once he gets the O.K. signal from the others, Honos gives the signal.

"Death to traitors!"

The six bastards have just enough time to turn around and reach for their weapons before they are shot multiple times from various directions. I think their deaths were too quick; under the Panem legal code they would have been burned at the stake for what they did to the little girl.

We gather up the belongings of the dead rebels; this includes backpacks full of spare District 13 clothing and supplies, munitions and grenades, District 13 machine guns, and blood splattered personal possessions that clearly belonged to the boy's family.

We load the latter into into a backpack, which we place on the back of the unconscious boy that Honos carries. The six rebels are given shallow graves in their camping place, and we move off again.

The sun is going down, and it is midnight when we reach the outskirts of the Central City of District 2.

Even from here, I can see the lights shining from the Acropolis. That great fortress is a pillar of hope. It is a sign that Mom and Annona are safe.

I mist keep them safe.


	26. Chapter 26:Espionage

I look in horror at what had become of the Central City of my home district. The rebels took it and turned it into a tracker jacker hive.

Statues honoring war heroes, fallen careers, and triumphant Victors are vandalized and torn down. It is a sad thing to see monuments to the heroes of the past torn down.

As we walk down the streets, it feels unnaturally empty. During times of peace, the streets were filled with people of all types. Now they are empty and desolate.

There are sometimes groups of soldiers in District 13 uniforms standing and talking to each other; I imagine nighttime must be cold for someone who is not aquatinted with the mountians.

As we walk through the streets, we see a solitary District 13 soldier standing right in the middle of the road. I volunteer to talk to him first; the others wait where he can not see them.

As I walk up to him, he points his gun at me. "Halt right there. I can not allow access to anyone without identification granting them permission to enter this area."

"Why not?"

"This part of the city is currently being used by the Mockingjay Revolutionary Army. Only rebel soldiers are allowed access. The Mockingjay and her cousin are making a visit here, so we need to be on high alert."

I do not really know what else to say to him. I am shocked that the Mockingjay is actually going to be in District 2.

"Okey. You look cold, why are you ordered to stand here without a jacket?"

"Of course its cold, but I forgot to put it on this morning."

"Sorry to hear that, hope your shift isn't that long."

"Don't worry, it ends in half an hour."

I walk back to the partisans. I explain everything I was able to pick up. Quickly we calculated and decided that an assassination was too risky and the chances of success were too minimal. It seems like Honos wants to sabotage rebel supply lines to the city; this is all well and good but the District 13 soldier gave me an idea.

"I think we should do some spy work."

Honos was not expecting this. His reaction shows that we are in agreement that the whole plan is hair brained.

"Are you mad? It's too risky."

I probably should agree, but for some reason even I do not know, I persist.

"Two or three of us could dress up as District 13 soldiers, then we can follow the Mockingjay and her cousin around to figure out what they intend to do here. If they bothered coming out here, than something big must be happening."

"Or it could be just another one of her godawful propaganda videos. Do you really want to risk your life for that?"

I am aware that how I answer this question will have a drastic impact on how my life turns out. The fact is that I do not want to risk my life in such a mission. For some reason or another, that is not what comes out of my mouth.

"My life is already at risk. Might as well take another."

Amazed by my foolhardiness, I fear Honos will tell me he will not let me go. That is not what happens.

"Well, than I'm taking it with you." Then he says to his partisans, "be sure to find a hiding place, and make sure to take care of the boy."

After we find an abandoned workshop in which we can change not District 13 uniforms, we walk to the location. The new guard, seeing our uniforms, lets us access. If the Rebs have an identification system, than this rebel is just being careless.

Now we are going to find out just what Katniss is planning with my District.


	27. Chapter 27:Rebel plot

After some looking around, we finally get a lucky break. Two of the guards who were sent to stand as watch at a meeting room fell into an unexpected accident, so the sergeant ran up to the first soldiers he saw and asked them to fill in for them. The fact that the first soldiers he saw were us is just simply miraculous. Now we'll get to listen in on a rebel meeting.

I am sure to turn on my communicator to record, so that everyone the rebels say will be saved.

We march as best we can (the District 13 soldiers have a weird marching style) and eventually we reach an empty justice building. We go into the meeting room, and wait for the Mockingjay with other rebel soldiers. The only difference it that these ones are real rebels.

Eventually, one by one, they arrive. Inside come District 13 officers, the traitor Lyme, and the Mockingjay and her cousin.

I try to calm myself when I see the person who killed my cousin. I remind myself that I am here to spy, not to assassinate them. I breath in and out until I am calm enough, that is when I notice that Katniss is seems weary and exhausted; hardly the charismatic rebel leader seen on television.

The traitor Lyme gives a presentation on the Acropolis, and I am quite frankly horrified. They know every detail about the facility, down to the most minute feature. Of course, this is not surprising when I consider that there are probably spies and traitors in the Nut. I am acutely aware that in some of those hallways and rooms are Annona, Mom, and millions of other innocent civilians.

Next Lyme and the others go over the problem of assaulting the Acropolis. I struggle to suppress a smirk while every last plan is thrown off the drawing board due to some defensive feature of the Acropolis. I can see that the traitor is becoming increasingly frustrated. Though I am disappointed that fighting has occurred and that attempts at the Acropolis were made, failed though they may be.

The important rebel officers are given lunch after some hours, and some more hours pass after their eating.

I learn that my assumption of spies being in the Acropolis is shown to be correct. Suggestions of overriding the computer system are made, but those suggestions quickly sink beneath other conversations and suggestions.

Finally, the Traitor shouts in uncontainable anger, "The next person who suggests we take the entrances better have a brilliant way to do it, because you're going to be the one leading that mission!"

It is clear that the rebels can not muscle their way through the entrance. This is one place where their human wave tactics are not going to work. A handful of men and woman can easily hold a choke point against even an otherwise overwhelming opposition.

Katniss's cousin, who spent the last hours looking out the window, chimes in.

"Is it so necessary that we take the Nut? Or would it be enough to disable it?"

Wait? What does he mean by that?

The District 3 Victor says something. "That would be a step in the right direction. What do you have in mind?"

"Think of it as a wild dog den. You're not going to flush your way in. So you have two choices: trap the dogs inside or flush them out."

I am quite frankly horrified. Is he really so brutal that he can not see us as human beings? I hope I never reach the point where I consider all enemies to be wild dogs; less than humans and not deserving of humane treatment.

More horrific is what he means by flush them out or trap them inside.

Lyme, the traitor, says something that I hope will put Gale's (I think that's his name) plan to rest, "We've tried bombing the entrances; they're set too far inside the stone for any real damage to be done."

"I wasn't thinking of that, I was thinking of using the mountain. See? Running down the sides?"

Their elaboration leaves me stricken with deathly terror. I only need to stop myself from vocalizing my petrified horror, as many others in the room become mortified as well.

Beetee joins Gale at the window, sees the slopes, and mutters softly, "Avalanche paths. It'd be tricky. We'd have to design the detonation sequence with great care, and once its in motion, we couldn't hope to control it."

"We don't have to control it if we give up the idea that we have to poses the Nut. Only shut it down."

Lyme, of all people, voices her objection. I do not know why she suddenly cares about her own people, but I can not think about this puzzle. I can not think about anything else whatsoever.

"You're suggesting we cause avalanches and block the entrance?"

Gale responds the affirmative, maliciousness in his voice and on his face. "That's it, trap the enemy inside, cut off from supplies. Make it impossible for me to send out their hovercraft."

A district 13 officer looks through some blueprints before frowning and explaining what should be obvious to anyone from District 2.

"You risk killing everyone inside. Look at the ventilation system. Its rudimentary at best. Nothing like we have at Thirteen. It depends entirely on pumping air in from the mountainsides. Block those vents and you suffocate whoever is trapped."

The fact that this District 13 officer shows genuine moral objection makes me wonder if perhaps not all the rebels had hearts of malice.

Beetee points a detail, though it does not change the fact that many would die in such an assault. "They could still escape through the train tunnel to the square."

What Gale says next (saying it with bluntness and an absence of hesitation) confirms that what he is planning is the worst nightmare of myself and many others. He confirms that, even if the rebellion has roped in some goodhearted men and woman, it still is full of monsters. I am paralyzed by terror.

"Not if we blow it up."


	28. Chapter 28:Even enemies have standards

It is a good thing Honos, though shaking, is there to catch me and prop me back up; when I heard what Katniss's cousin intended to do I nearly feinted from shock.

Beetee, of all people, breaks the silence. "The majority of the workers are citizens from Two"

If he knows that it also holds majority of District 2 and District 4's remaining loyalist population, he does not bring it up.

"So what? We'll never be able to trust them again!"

This adds a whole new level of horror to the war. He is not simply talking about conquering loyal districts with all the collateral damage it entails. He is talking about systematically exterminating the whole District.

Genocide. Every single person I know and love, as well as countless millions of others, being erased. It be made as though none of us ever existed.

Lyme, for all her faults, proves that even she is not willing to pass a certain point. "They should at least have a chance to surrender."

"Well, that's a luxury we weren't given when they firebombed Twelve, but you're all so much cozier with the Capitol here."

Gale sounds like he honestly believes this. I still think that District 12 was destroyed by rebels, but it is possible that they might have disguised their act or showed Gale doctored footage until he came to believe it.

Even on the nigh-impossible hypothetical that the Capitol would do something so sickening, it still does not excuse what Katniss's cousin wants to do. He of all people should know that civilian casualties are not to be treated lightly, and in fact he does know and is choosing to willingly replicate what supposedly almost killed him.

Seeing Lyme upset at what he wanted to do to innocent people, Katniss's cousin shouted in anger. "We watched children burn to death and there was nothing we could do!"

Wiping terror-sweat from my brow with my clammy hands, I turn my head ever so slightly to see what Katniss thinks of her cousin's suggested genocide. I expect she will agree and commend him on his mercilessness and his devotion to the rebellion. I expect the same sadism I have seen for an entire year.

This is not what happened.

Katniss seems genuinely disturbed by what her cousin is suggesting. I imagine it she was able to recognize that replicating the massacre of District 12 would make her just as bad as the people she was lead to believe did it. It seems she has at least one microscopic shred of humanity left.

"The Nut's an old mine. It'd be like causing a massive coal mining accident."

"But not so quick as the one that killed our fathers! Is that everyone's problem? That our enemies might have a few hours to reflect on the fact that they're dying, instead of just being blown to bits?"

At this, Katniss is pleading with him. It is clear that she does not want this to happen. It takes every ounce of willpower to scream; if she is their leader than why can she not make them stop this.

It is only on hindsight that I suspect that she did not have as much power over the rebellion as first anticipated.

"You don't know how those District Two people ended up in there. They may have been coerced. They may have been held against their will. Some are our own spies, would you kill them too?"

Katniss's cousin responds in a way that shows exactly how much he cares about his comrades and the rebel soldiers below him.

"I would sacrifice a few, yes, to take out the rest of them. And if I were a spy in there, id say bring on the avalanche."

It is easy for the bastard to talk big when his neck is not on the line. I am not so sure that those spies all knew they were considered disposable by those they served."

The District 13 officer, the same one who objected previously, comments how they could leave the tunnel open. They decide that they are going to call the rebel president Coin. It is clear that they will go through with the plan, so I do not need to stay to hear the rest when Katniss and her cousin are dismissed.

They will probably do it tonight.

Honos and I both slip outside into a quiet place. There, I vomit onto the pavement.

"Lyes, are you okey?"

I quietly hiss just barley remembering that we are supposed to be under cover.

"No I'm not okey! They're gonna kill everybody I care about. We have to stop them."

"How do yo intend to do that?"

"I have to warn the Peacekeepers in the Nut."

Honos does not tell me it is crazy or that I can get myself killed. He gives advice.

"You'll need to find a way to reach the tunnel where peacekeepers can rescue you. You should wear your peacekeeper clothes so they don't shoot you on sight."

"The area between us is crawling with rebels, how am I supposed to reach the tunnel?"

"Leave that to me."

In a calm voice, Honos explains the risky and dangerous plan to get me to the Nut in time.

It should work.

It has to work.


	29. Chapter 29:Race against time

Honors and his partisans wait behind an alley leading into the square, armed and ready.

I wait in an alley on the other side of the square, my peacekeeper uniform on and the communicator safe in my pocket. It is the most valuable thing on me, as getting it to the Headpeacekeeper Staff in the Acropolis is literally a matter of life and death.

I give the signal.

Honos and his partisans storm out of the alleyway with guns blazing, assaulting the rebels around the square. Woefully outnumbered, the partisans retreat back after having killed three Rebs.

Ignoring the gunfire around me, I sneak through the square.

One minute passes. I am in the square.

Three minutes pass. I am half way across.

Seven minutes pass. I made it.

Now I run. I run around the train station and up to the railroad where the brush and trees will not impede me.

Then I sprint.

Behind me, Honos and his partisans are being either killed or routed. Their fight will appear to the rebels as simply a minor skirmish.

While they may not get more than a shallow grave if they are killed, I will always remember their sacrifice.

I sprint up the mountain, ignoring the bleeding in my shoes ignoring the chafing caused by my armor, and ignoring the burning in my lungs.

All I can think about is that I have only a few hours to reach the tunnel.

I sprint continually, completely aware of the seriousness of my mission. I do not allow myself to slow down even for a second, as that will cause a chain reaction that will result in my feinting. I see the tunnel, but it is still too far in the distance.

I'll never make it.

No! I can not think like that!

I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.

I am a Peacekeeper, I can do this. I fought in District 8, District 4, and in my home district. I have survived attempts to kill me from probably hundreds of people.

I can do anything.

With all my remaining endurance, I make the last push despite the protest of my feet and my lungs.

I just need to hold out a little longer.

Finally, I reach the tunnel.

The guards, recognizing that I am a peacekeeper, do not shoot me.

"You look exhausted. Take it easy."

"I can't I have to-"

"You're not going to do anything without some rest first."

"THERES NO TIME! If you don't get me to the Headpeacekeeper than every single person in the Acropolis is going to die."

This catches their attention, and they take me to the Headpeacekeeper Staff.


	30. Chapter 30:Preventing a genocide

I sit in the main conference room, showing the recording on my communicator to the Headpeacekeepers, the Victors, and the other members of high command who sit around the table. I am too drained both physically and emotionally to do anything more than fast forward to the important part (the High Command does not need to hear about the rejected plans between Lyme's presentation and Gale's idea), sit in my soggy and sweat soaked uniform, and watch the reaction of the High Command.

As they hear Gale's plans for genocide, every person in the room experiences an intensity of one emotion or another.

Some, like the guards, react the way I did: with an overload of horror.

Most of the rest react with shock, numbness, horror, despair, or anger.

Thread has the third emotion; his eyes turning wide, his skin turning pale, and his hands clasping the edge of the table to keep from feinting of overwhelm. This is the first time I've seen him afraid.

He is not the only one, as I can see quite a few Headpeacekeepers overwhelmed by the severity of the situation.

Barca, who was promoted to Legionary Headpeacekeeper in my absence (I learned of this after he told me of my promotion to Commander), grips his hands together and has a look of grim determination on his face that hints to goings on his his head about how to handle the situation.

Enobaria, who looked uninterested and frankly bored when the meeting began, was convulsing with rage by the time the recording is finished.

She is not the only one, as several Headpeacekeepers and a few of the more hardened guards are also visibly furious.

Once the recording comes to an end, the room fills with talk. Apart from a stream of creative curses and swears Enobaria and a few others shout, I can not hear what anyone is saying.

Eventually the Headpeacekeeper of District 2 gets everybody to quiet. Once the talking dims down to a murmur, he speaks.

"Alright then, let's figure out how to deal with this. I don't know about you, but I didn't fight against rebels in the Dark Days just to die now. We beat them before and we'll beat them as many more times as it takes."

The Headpeacekeeper of District 1 asks, her voice calm. "We can have our antiaircraft guns on order to attack all rebel hovercraft on sight. Of they can't reach us, they can't bomb us."

A Loyal District One Victor who escaped the invasion of his home shouts in outrage, "Then what? Wait for the rebels to make another plan? They want to kill us all!"

"Not if we stop them."

All eyes in the room turn to Romulus Thread, who has emerged from his shock with a new vigor.

"The rebels will be mobilizing their forces and taking down their defenses, expecting that they will be able to make a push for the Capitol soon. They will be vulnerable, they will be unprepared, and they will not be expecting an attack. We hit them and we hit them hard. If all goes well, they'll not be able to organize their forces fast enough to hold us off."

The Headpeacekeeper of the 4th Legion asked simply, "Are you suggesting a counter attack?"

"Yes, I am suggesting we attack now and end this once and for all."

After some brief discussion, the High Command agree on Thread's plan. Then there is more discussion on how to bring it into fruition.

Once that is done, we are dismissed.

As we leave, Thread gives us a reminder as he closes the door behind him.

"Remember, we have five hours until our planned attack. I suggest you get some rest while you still can."

Barca takes me to commander quarters, where I get my own room. It is not much, but I have my own bed and some privacy to rest. He promised to check up on me in one hour.

Sitting on my bed, I felt the abysmal situation overwhelm me.


	31. Chapter 31:Not for the Capitol

When Headpeacekeeper Barca enters my room to check up on me, he sees the condition I am in. When he sees me sitting with my head cradled in my hands, he sits on the bed next to me.

"Is something wrong?"

I speak, just barley below a whisper. "We can't win this."

"What do you mean?"

I repeat myself, only just loud enough for him to hear. "We can't win this."

Barca now hears what I said, and placed his hand on my shoulder before replying. "I know they may outnumber us now-"

This is the part where I break down in tears.

"Don't you get it?! They'll always outnumber us!"

I am now shouting at this point, and Barca listens in patient silence while I scream my anger out of me.

"We've spent the last year and a half dying and getting shot at in the mud fighting against an enemy that outnumbers us ten to one. I've spent all that time watching my friends and close loved ones die painful and slow deaths before my eyes while I am powerless to save them. And for what? The Capitol? Well fuck the Capitol! It is all their fault; they could have prevented this but they did nothing while a situation grew out of control. If they had stepped in to end the rebellion before it even began, this damned war would never have happened. Harod would still be alive, his wife would still be alive, Montgomery's parents would still be alive, District 12 would not have been annihilated; none of the suffering in the last year would have happened if the Capitol had not done nothing until the situation grew beyond its control. Now the entire world is against us!"

I am no longer able to rant. I now can only sob.

"Civilization is falling apart around me, I am about to lose everyone I love, and there is nothing I or anyone else can do to stop it ..."

Once my crying has downgraded to silent whimpers, Barca told me in candid terms what he thought of what I said.

"Hardley, I did not grow up in an ideal environment. I grew up in an orphan home. I had no parents, I had no family members, I never got a chance to be a Career, and I had no legacy or heritage to draw strength from. I grew up having to work for everything that I had. When I joined the Peacekeepers, it was the first time that I felt I could help people. I did not join out of some desire for glory, nor did I join to serve the Capitol.

Right now the rebels outside the Acropolis want to kill everyone we love and care about. If we give them the chance to, they will do it without hesitation. This is why we can not give them the chance. This fight is not about the Capitol anymore; all that matters is protecting the people we care about from those who want to destroy them. Out there we won't be fighting for the Capitol, or for Snow, or for glory or for any other idea: we'll be fighting for our home."

This makes me think. I think about my friends, I think about my colleagues, about the school I went to and the village I grew up in, I think about the children and mothers and fathers and husbands I saw in the Acropolis as I walked down the halls. I thought about my mother, and about Annona. If the rebels go through with their plan, than all those people will be killed. It is not a fight in defense of Capitol rule; it is a fight for our very survival. That is what it was about during the Dark Days, and that is what it is about now.

"D-do you really think we can do it?"

"I don't know, I don't know any more than you do. But if we really are the last generation of Peacekeepers, than I'd rather die with my boots on the ground than waiting for my end. If you aren't up for it, you can wait behind."

With determination, I answer. "No, I want to fight. I want to be there with my friends when the fighting is going on."

We both stand up, we salute each other, and Barca looks into my eyes. I can see that his are hardened and bold, ready to do or die.

As he heads out, he gestures to the box in front of my bed. "There is a fresh uniform on top of the chest, inside you will find fresh armor. Your belongings are underneath."

As though on afterthought, he walks back to the door and says to me. "Oh, there is someone waiting here who has come to visit you."

Then he actually leaves and calls out on his way out.

"Remember, you have four hours until it is time for battle."


	32. Chapter 32:Promise

After an hour of sleep, I decide to get up. I gently climb out of my bed and dress myself. I dress myself quietly, pulling my new uniform over me as well as my armor and my weapons. I make sure that Annona is not awoken.

After I am fully dressed, armed, and armored, I sit at the foot of the bed and watch Annona sleep.

After ten minuets, she wakes up.

"Rise and shine sleepyhead."

As she dresses herself, she says the things she wanted to before I embraced her in my arms.

"Lyes, I haven't seen you in months. When they told us that you were Missing In Action, your mother and I feared the worst."

I smile while I answer. "Well, you need not worry; you already know for yourself that I was not dead."

"You're mother became sick when she heard the news."

This would be bad news in any case, but with the memory of my father' death it is intensified.

I nervously ask."How sick?"

"She has been getting better since she learned about your return, but she was at one point near death."

I am thankful that Annona told me of my mothers health returning before bring up the fact that I was almost an orphan.

Annona and I stare into each others eyes for a moment. I feel myself getting lost in those beautiful blue pools.

I am only shaken from my trance by Annona's words.

"I love you."

It feels so good to hear her say those words. I want to feel this way forever.

"I love you too. Will you marry me?"

"But you're a peacekeeper; peacekeepers can't get married."

"I don't care. I never want to be away from you again. Once my twenty years are over, I will be free to marry you. Will you wait for me as my fiancée until then?"

This is not a well-planned proposal. I do not have a ring; when I get the chance I will have to buy her one.

But she doesn't care.

"Yes!Yes!Yes I will marry you!"

I will keep this promise to the best of my ability; if I am blown to bits by rebel artillery, than I will not be able to make good my promise. Still, I will try. I will try to do my best to return to her.

Until then I will fight to protect her.


	33. Chapter 33:Lost loved ones

I eventually reach one of the armories for mid to high ranking commanders. Most of the Peacekeepers and Militamen-turned-into-peacekeepers were already armed and armored, so there are not many in here.

Right now Enobaria is talking to Headpeacekeeper Romulus Thread.

She is wearing a uniform and a suit of armor made specifically for Victors who would be fighting alongside us; it is essentially a Peacekeeper uniform with the color scheme of the tribute uniforms of the 75th hunger games. The rank does not say a rank in the Peacekeepers Armed Forces, it says 'Victor'.

I load my guns while those two talk. They seem to notice I am here, but this does not cause them to request privacy.

"Don't think that me fighting changes how I fee about this whole mess. I am fighting to save my home from sadists; the Capitol is still something I could not care less about."

It looks like someone else also found something actually worth dying for.

"Either way, I'm glad you'll be fighting alongside us."

"Remember, it is only until my people are safe. As soon the Rebs are out of District 2 I will put my gun away and let you handle the rest."

"In any case, I appreciate what you are doing. I also appreciate what you did for my niece."

"Clove was a brave woman, it was an honor being her Mentor."

I guess I am not the only person who lost a loved one during the 74th Hunger Games. I clearly remember Clove getting beaten to death with a rock, Cato swearing revenge, him hunting down and killing the thug who murdered his district partner. When I saw Cato hold Thresh's severed head and scream furiously into the storm, I thought that there was nothing that could beat Cato.

I wonder if Thread took solace in his niece's death being avenged.

"Thanks, that means a lot."

"That reminds me, I wanted you to have this."

She hands the Headpeacekeeper a dagger, then elaborates.

"She used it in the Hunger Games. I thought that as her last surviving relative, you deserved to have it."

At this, Thread, who I have never seen display emotion passionately before, cried.

"Thank you. This means a lot."

After this, Thread began to cry.

"It's not easy losing someone close to you."

Enobaria places her hand on Thread's shoulder in a comforting way.

"It never is."

After a while, Thread is able to regain his composure. Since we have a dangerous job to do soon, he shakes hands with Enobaria.

"See you on the battlefield."

Thread leaves, and as I am about to go out to follow him Enobaria tells me to wait.

"Wait, aren't you Commander Hardley?"

This is confusing, is I don't remember formally meeting her. "Yes."

"You are Cato's cousin."

"That is true."

Enobaria hands me a rather large dagger. "Cato used this in the games, he would want you to have it."

"Thank you." I can not help but ask my followup question. "Did you ever talk to him in the games?"

"Yea, he was really determined. He and Brutus got became friends fast."

Cato did always have that quality about him. "Thanks."

With that, I take out my combat knife and put Cato's dagger in its place.

Now I head out to join the other soldiers.


	34. Chapter 34:pre-battle speech

**Authors Note: For added mood, I suggest listening to the music below while you read. No spaces.**

http / / : www . youtube watch ?v = dwike5VXojk

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><p>Standing with the soldiers under my command, I listen as Headpeacekeeper Barca gives a speech to the entire army. Sitting to his left are the other Headpeacekeepers, sitting to his right are the victors who are willing to fight. As he speaks, there is a fire in his voice that makes his speech stick with all of us.<p>

"Soldiers, it has been an honor to serve with you through this hardship. I have seen you preform acts of chivalry and valor far above and beyond the call of duty. You have repeatedly validated the expectations laid before you. It is unfair for any man to ask anything more of you, and it would not be before you doing exactly that if there was no other choice.

Right now District 2 and all its people are threatened; the rebels have made a plan to cause an avalanche over our heads and to bomb all the exits so as to prevent anyone from surviving the onslaught. What they plan is the complete and utter genocidal annihilation of our people. They want to wipe us from existence and make the world as though we never existed to begin with. We, the men and woman wearing the white uniforms of the peacekeepers, are the only thing standing between them and their murderous goals.

When I look into the ranks before me, I see peacekeepers from District 1, District 2, District 4, and from the Capitol. Our willingness to defend the people we love from these enemies; that is what units us, what holds us together. Remember that it was only three quarters of a century ago that our forefathers fought to defend their families as well.

I would defend our families even if I were the last peacekeeper on the earth. I ask that you join me in the defense of our homeland. Are you with me?"

We all chant in reply "TO TRAITORS NEVER YIELD! TO TRAITORS NEVER YIELD!"

"Then the uprising ends today."

We stand ready, almost every peacekeeper and loyal soldier in this base stands ready. The infantrymen, the tanks, the armored cars, the hovercrafts, and all other vehicles of war are standing ready to charge forth from the Acropolis and strike down our enemy that waits below.

This is a matter of life and death, survival and an annihilation. This battle will either be the turning point of the war or our last defeat.

We can not lose this battle. The hopes of myself and every single person I care about (as well as untold millions) rests on the outcome of this day.

The peacekeepers must be victorious.


	35. Chapter 35:Counter offensive

**Authors note: Things might get sliiiiiiightly AU. See of you can spot the nuanced differences from Canon.**

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><p>I sit in a train that, like many others, was modified for the purpose of holding more soldiers. At the very least, hundreds of thousands of Peacekeepers are riding the train down to fight. Millions of civilians are waiting in the Acropolis, their last hope resting squarely on our shoulders.<p>

The television screens on it show what is happening in the air while we roll down the tracks.

Rebel hovercrafts fly over towards the sky above the Acroplis. They probably expect to be ignored like flies over a dung pile. That is not what happens.

One by one, antihovercraft artillery blasts the rebel bombers out of the sky, ripping through their hulls and sending them crashing towards the earth in metallic balls of fire.

The rebels will not be causing any avalanches today, and the Acropolis will remain unburied. The rebels thought they would make their final push soon; they could not have made a bigger mistake.

As soon as the rebel hovercrafts are ripped to shreds by our antiaircraft guns, our own hovercrafts fly out as a massive swarm. These are battle hovercrafts which battle the rebel hovercrafts, bomber hovercrafts that will destroy the rebel defenses below, and paratrooper hovercrafts to drop in peacekeepers over the city. The peacekeeper hovercrafts fly out in a vast multitude, almost as though the sky was a canvas that someone was pouring paint onto.

As we ride the train, I can feel my heart beating in anticipation of the coming battle. I look at the men under my command; they are but a minute fraction of the entire Peacekeeper Army that is charging forth on this day.

Our unity is what gives us strength, it is what allowed our forefathers to drive the rebels out before. We shall no longer allow the destruction of all we hold dear.

Now that we are in the offensive, Gale is going to pay the blood price for his misdeeds.

On my belt is the sword of my Peacekeeper grandfather, the dagger of my Career cousin, the two pistols I used to kill countless rebels, the baton I used against countless other rebels. It also includes a flashlight for use if I can not wear my helmet with its visor that allows for vision at night, as well as several grenades and magazines of ammunition.

I grip the bayonet tipped machinegun in my hand, and the very moment he trains stop we charge out.

I can see the ruin and wreckage of what was once the District Square; buildings lie in ruin and the twisted and smashed remains of rebel machine gun nests do not even attempt to hide the rebel corpses that litter the area. Blood and gore are scattered all around, and limbs are ripped from torso and left sprawled in different places.

It is clear that not enough of the rebel hovercrafts were ready for the off chance that their little genocide might not go forward, the peacekeeper bombers were able to safely make quick work of the rebels in the Square.

Rushing to out from the train station, my division as well as several others fight wi the surviving rebels while several more pour out of every cart on the train. We are able to quickly secure the square, and when rebels scramble to assault us we fire at them.

Our guns rip through them before any of them can take up positions, and many are fall on their faces or even flip forward as a result of the forward momentum pulling their dead bodies.

We have no time to defend the square; we have to keep pushing forward while the rebels are still surprised. Leading my division, we fight our way along the streets leading around the Justice Building; the building itself was blanketed by a cloud of acid fog and any rebels who did not die inside are either in the process of dying or have escaped the building.

As we fight along this route, I notice that their is no sign of the Mockingjay or of any other high ranking rebels. Perhaps this is because they escaped through the courtyard behind the Justice Building.

In any case, they will not survive this battle.

Rebels try firing at us, but we are able to make quick work of them. I am unable to use my bayonet at the moment because the rebels are not close enough to stab.

One rebel throws a grenade in my direction, but we are able to shoot at it and cause it to explode mid air. The fireball does not hurt anyone, but it does distract the rebels long enough for us to finish off this batch.

We march over their corpses as we advance.

Behind me, paratrooper peacekeepers join their comrades on the ground. Tanks and other armored vehicles that were driving down from one of the lower entrances finally reach the Square.

Above me, outnumbered and surprised rebel hovercrafts are ripped apart by more numerous and more aggressive Peacekeeper hovercrafts.

As we rush down the streets, I am able to see the carnage in fullness. Rebels who charge into gunfire or attempt to slide behind cover are gunned down.

The smells of battle fill my nostrils; the citrusy smell of the acid fog, the metallic smell of blood, the salty taste of sweat, and many other smells that made me gag at first but now are second nature.

Behind me, I can see the flag of the Mockingjay being taken down from the District Square Flagpole. It it's place is being raised either the banner of the nation or the peacekeeper flag.

We march down the streets, and ahead of us the peacekeeper hovercrafts attack rebels on the street. This should keep them on edge somewhat.

The center of the city is secure. We must keep pressing if we want to take the rest of it.


	36. Chapter 36:A score to settle

We push our way down the streets, killing any rebels we come across.

Some of the rebels are still in their sleep clothing; clearly having been woken up by the battle. In any case, they are killed almost as soon as they show their faces. Many die with surprise being their last emulation, as they have not registered what is happening and just ran outside with gun when the alarm sounded. If they had not been rebellious, than these men and women would not have died in a foreign land far away from their homes.

Occasionally, one rebel will jump out at me or one of my comrades from a hiding place; I got to use my bayonet after all. Due to the rebel lack of body armor, my bayonet rips through their chests without being blocked. My white uniform is stained red with enemy blood, and in a battle like this that is the way it should be.

Eventually, we reach a crossroads. At one end of the crossroads, Lyme was leading a division of rebel soldiers in a charge. I did not see Enonaria standing nearby until she said something, her voice filled with an anger that seemed personal.

"I want to be the one to kill her."

It seems that Enobaria does not approve of the fact that Lyme was willing to stand aside while her rebel comrade commit a genocide.

The rebel soldiers charging look to be from District 2. It is a sad thing to see two divisions from the same land, people who likely grew up together and knew each other before the war, set out to destroy each other. This was has become brother against brother, father against son.

As the rebel soldiers and the peacekeepers struggled, Enobaria was able to seek out and find Lyme amidst the fighting. She kicked out the feet of the rebel Victor, but Lyme was able to turn around and regain her footing in time. They both pull out their swords and begin to melee. Their fighting is fierce and it is clear that no quarter will be shown or given. With locked swords, it really is a sight to see.

Two Victors in a clash to the death.

Enobaria wields a Gladius sword which was modified and made longer. It is decorated ornately like her armor, but also like her armor I assume that it still fulfills the practical requirements easily.

I do not know what type of sword Lyme uses, but she is wearing a modified District 13 officers uniform.

While other peacekeepers manage to enter the fight and skirmish with the few remaining rebels in Lyme's division, I take my division slightly further down the streets. There we fire at the rebels who are charging in to reinforce Lyme's position. These rebels are gunned down before they can fire at us; their bodies fall onto the mud and are forgotten quickly as we turn to deal with the still living rebels.

They charge in waves of ten to fifteen, not taking the time to organize into their divisions before attacking us. The organization I saw later in the war did not have time to be set up, so the rebels die in droves.

A second wave charges at us, and our grenades make quick work of them. It is clear that the rebels did not expect an attack; the only defensive structures we saw were the shattered machine gun nests in the District Square. Not a single mounted machine gun or land mine to worry about; not even a coil of barbed wire.

Still, we must keep pushing forward if we want to beat the Rebs before they have a chance to set these things up.

It is still dark outside, the has already set and went under the horizon. It will not rise again for many more hours. Above me, the sky is filled with a multitude of beautiful and gentle stars. In the sky the clouds lightly pull some clouds across, like wooden ships across an ancient sea.

But I have no time to gaze in wonder at the heavens, for on the ground the dark city is illuminated by the flash of gunfire and the blaze of explosions from both grenades and hovercraft bombs.

Fighting off another wave of rebel soldiers, I push forward while Enobaria and Lyme fight to the death behind me. I know which one I hope will win this fight.

I suppose that Enobaria might have seen Lyme's disapproval as half hearted, and this might be why she wants to kill her. While Lyme might not have approved of the attempted genocide, but she still needs to die.

Though as I push forward, I have one question. Where did the Mockingjay and the other rebel officers go? While they were probably in the Justice Building, it is possible they escaped. In any case, I will find out by the time this battle ends.

I just hope I can stay alive until then.


	37. Chapter 37:Fire

After fighting my way to another crossroads, my division joins up with another division and we all march down the main road.

From two side alleyways on either side of the road, rebels charge out at us. While they are ill prepared and we are able to gun quite a few of them down with ease, the others are close enough that we must fight melee. Since we have bayonets on our guns, we are able to stab and hack at the rest of the rebels.

We keep marching, determined to keep pushing forward. If we want to retake our district, than we have to win this battle. And if we want to win this battle, speed is important.

Eventually, a rebel tank rolls down the street. However, before it can do anything it explodes in a ball of fire. The top opens up, and two rebels climb out. One is caught on the entrance and flails around in fiery agony before hanging limp off the edge of the tank. A second one fully climbs out, falls to the ground with a bone shattering crack, is unable to extinguish the flames, and dies in worse agony. Inside the tank are the screams of two more rebel soldiers who are trapped inside and doomed to be oven baked.

I look to see what hit it, and from out of an alleyway emerges Montgomery. Over his shoulder is a rocket launcher, and trailing behind him is the cords of a parachute.

"You're welcome."

"Montgomery? Its good to see you're still breathing."

"Lyes! You're still kicking."

He walks to join us, and after he does we keep marching.

After reaching the post office, we find that the rebels turned it into a barracks and we fight to clear it out.

As we march through the first wing, rebels who just woke up are crowded together as they try to attack us. Though their weapons are close by, we are able to take advantage of the narrow hallway by using the flame throwers to burn them alive. The building codes of District 2 ensure that the building itself will not catch on fire unless these rebels sweat gasoline.

With flamethrowers, we burn through most of the rebels in the large Post Office. Soon they are all dead.

Plies and piles of charred corpses line the hallway in the wings of the Large Post Office. Since most of the rebel soldiers were in their pajamas, they got burned without any protection whatsoever. The oder of a human's burning flesh is not a good smell. In fact, there are few smells that can boast to being worse than the smell of burned human flesh. The smell is so bad that I do not notice the look of pain and mortal terror universally plastered over the blackened and charred faces of the dead rebels. Nor do I notice that some of the rebels turned their guns on themselves. Nor do I register the rebel screams; I suppose that hearing something too much causes the brain to not register that sound for a while.

It is so strong that my nostrils temporarily lose the ability to smell anything, a fact I only know once we leave the now secured post office and my nose is flooded with the cold fresh night air of the mountains.

Once outside we keep fighting against waves and waves of rebels. As we pound through their ranks, they die in droves.

Occasionally we will see or march past a building or a vehicle that is on fire. Most, but definitely in no way all, of the time the occupants were able to get out in time.

At one point I see what remains of a rebel whose grenade exploded prematurely. The right half of his body is simply not there; all around him are organs, bits of bone, and chunks of his flesh. Despite this, he is still gurgling and flailing in agony.

At another point I see a rebel who, while charging, slipped and on the combat knife she was holding. The knife went through her stomach, and it looks like she tried unsuccessfully with her remaining strength to get it out. She was already dead by the time we found what remained.

At yet another point, I see one of the peacekeeper paratroopers. His parachute was caught on a lamppost, and the cords got tangled around his neck. We took the time to cut him down, but it was too late. By the looks of it, I would say that he died of a broken neck and did not have to suffer the fate of strangulation. I am glad his visor blocks his face, as I do not have to see it.

After intense fighting, we reach the city park.


	38. Chapter 38:The park

Fighting in the park is much different than in the streets.

After all that, we finally reach the statue in the center of the park. Once there, I see Peacekeepers stationed at the platform around the statue firing at the rebels in all direction. Some supply crates holding ammo and grenades have been parachuted onto the platform so that soldiers can resupply.

One soldier, whose uniform is colored in a mixture of black and silver, walks to the crate to get some more magazines for her machine gun.

This soldier is Enobaria.

She is clearly just beginning to calm down after have been in a battle frenzy. The fact that she is still shaking with wild rage is all I can see of it; the visor she wears covers her eyes so I can not see if they are the widened eyes of temporary insanity. In any case, she clearly won the battle.

I can tell Enobaria was in a state of battle frenzy because with her free hand she held Lyme's severed head.

It is probable that Lyme fought to the bitter end. Even though Lyme was an enemy and a traitor, I can not imagine her going into battle one moment and dying like a coward the next. Apart from that, Careers are trained never to beg for mercy and I know that training is not some thing that goes away on its own. Did she realize and accept that her death would be in vain? Did she convince herself that she was somehow helping her cause? In any case, it would be painful if she was beheaded before being killed as apposed to after.

Such is the way of war: not everybody gets to go home.

Seeing someone hold a severed head would have shocked or horrified me a year ago, now it does not. In fact it reminds me of how Cato, upon defeating the thug from District 11, cut off his head and held it in front of him for everyone to see. The only significant difference is that Lyme's head has a pallor which probably stems from having bled out her blood for some time.

In any case, I am so used to stuff like this that I just reload my machinegun and fire at the rebels. Since we can not risk taking the defensive, we must push onward. Apparently Headpeacekeeper Thread agrees, because he gives us the order.

"Peacekeepers. Forward!"

We push our way through the park, fighting rebels in fierce combat which is both shooting and hand-to-hand.

Shooting, stabbing, lobbing grenades, and killing rebels. This is the business of the day. Blood and guts run like spilled wine, and all of this is to a symphony of screams.

By the time the fighting and the firing is over, my uniform is completely colored brown with mud. This is the case for virtually every other peacekeeper, and in spite of the cold air I am saturated with sweat.

Once the park was secured, it was designated as a stopping point. It's shad providing trees were cut down to be used as fire wood by rebels who were unused to the comparatively cold weather of my home. This meant that the park was no flat enough for hovercrafts to land here; hovercrafts that will be needed to drop in soldiers, tanks, armored vehicles, and supplies.

Still, only some of the soldiers are allowed to sit down and catch their breath. The rest are back to pushing the rebels out of our district.

We have so far taken over half of the city. The battle is going well for us; a vast multitude of the rebel army has been killed and they are taking many more casualties than we are. In fact, while the rebels are losing many many more soldiers than they can afford, we have lost extremely low casualties. The bulk of the rebel army is here, so a decisive victory could easily knock out their war making capabilities. I hope we can turn this war back in our favor, as it looks like both sides are past the point of compromise.

In any case, I can only push forward.


	39. Chapter 39:Sweeping up the stragglers

Morning comes and goes, and eventually it is noon again. After intense fighting, we finally have retaken most of the city.

What remains of the rebel's main army is at the far edge of the city, trying to make a last stand despite the fact that they have neither supplies nor defensive capabilities. They lack supplies because what supplies they had were in a supply train which they prepared for a final push towards the Capitol; we captured that supply train and now posses all their artillery, ammunition, many of their hovercrafts, almost all of their vehicles, and quite a few guns. Now we get to see how the rebels like being on the other side of the slaughter.

While we gun down rebels who are standing without any way to shield themselves, we march slowly closer. As we Fire and Advance, the noose tightens around the necks of the rebels. However, it appears at least one rebel is not ready to give up yet.

As I kneel down to load a magazine into my machine gun, an arrow hisses above me. It goes right through the space of air where my head previously was, and it buries itself into the the throat of the peacekeeper behind me. I look up to see who the firer of the arrow was.

He is not the Mockingjay.

This rebel, whoever he is, wears a modified District 13 officers uniform. He looks eerily familiar, but in the heat of battle my brain will not waste time figuring out the identity of the threat when getting rid of him is more important.

Plus the name tag on his uniform is too small to read.

Rolling out of the way of another arrow, I fire at him.

He dodges out of the way, sending two more arrows at me.

I am able to dip out of the way of both of them, and while he is behind the cover of a wall I sprint towards him.

He notches another arrow, and pulls it to full length with it aimed at my heart. With an angry expression, he releases the arrow.

I guess this is it. Oddly enough, it has not registered with my mind that I am about to die soon.

It turns out that is because I am not about to die soon.

Fortunately for me (but not for this archer), his bow jams.

While this rebel archer fumbles in frustration to unjam the arrow, I cover the distance between us.

Using the butt of my machine gun, I swing down with the intent of smashing his skull.

He dodges out of the way and pulls out a combat knife.

He attempts to stab at my throat, but I parry with my bayonet. Eventually I get the bayonet stuck in the wall behind him when he dodges a lunge.

Not bothering to waste precious seconds freeing it, I back away before the rebel can stab me. I pull out my own dagger, and a knife fight ensues.

I try to swing at his armorless belly, but he is able to dodge back. He tries to swing down at my side, but I parry and cut his hand in the process.

Yelping in pain, he drops the knife. I try to stab him, but he grabs my dagger and keeps it from his throat.

Improvising, I turn my shoulder around. This rips the knife from his hands while simultaneously hitting his head against the back of the wall he is against.

He slumps to the ground unmoving.

I still do not know why, but I have the bad habit of checking the pulse. This time, he is not dead.

Out cold, maybe, but not dead.

I call to some other soldiers, and three approach.

"This man is unconscious; take this prisoner back to the camp with the others."

"Yes sir."

They carry the prisoner back, and I can not shake the feeling that there is something familiar about him.

Still, I am sure they will figure it out back in the holding cells.

I go to join the rest of the soldiers in wiping out the remaining hundred or so rebels. As I do so, a peacekeeper approaches me.

"Thread wants you and your division to meet him back in the camp."

There are so many other divisions in this final part of the battle that a single division can be spared for whatever he needs me for.

I call my division, and we head back to the city park while the rest of the peacekeepers finish off the outnumbered and doomed rebels.

It is amazing to think that I was looking dear in the face just two days ago, and now virtually the entire rebel army was wiped out with surprisingly low Peacekeeper casualties. I am sure that whatever the Honorable Headpeacekeeper Thread has to ask of me will not be difficult to overcome.

We march back and I await what orders I may get.


	40. Chapter 40:High stakes

As I approach Romulus Thread, we salute each other and he gives me my orders.

"Commander Hardley, we just got a message from the Capitol. The Mockingjay was able to escape the battle, and she lead small company of soldiers to attack the Capitol. She was joined by the rebel army that was garrisoning District 1, and a full scale battle is taking place in the Capitol. We think that she is either trying to assassinate the president or she is trying to capture the nuclear silos there, so as to use the nuclear weapons either to force our surrender with a hostage situation or to launch a global suicide attack. The City Circle has not fallen, and fighting is so matched that we do not need to divert too many soldiers to reinforce them. Four divisions will be more than sufficient to tip the balance in our favor."

At this news, I as well as several of the Peacekeepers under my command, become horrified. Sans Montgomery (who is understandably the most horrified of us all), none of us are from the Capitol: what is terrifying is the possibility that the rebels might try to use the Capitol nukes in a global suicide attack, or even threaten to do so if we do not surrender. If the rebels detonate the nukes it will not be the end of the Panem Government: it will be the end of all life on Earth. The air will be poisoned by the nuclear discharge, and the winds will blow it around until the entire earth is covered with the foul stuff. It would choke every living thing on the planet, sparing not even the tiniest of cells.

Peacekeeper Romulus Thread answers. "I trust you understand the severity of the situation."

"Yes sir."

"You're division will be one of four that will be sent over to relieve the peacekeepers defending the City Circle. We will land you in the southern end of the Capitol; from there you are to follow the coast of Lake Capitol until you reach the railroad tracks. From there, you follow the tracks to the Central Circle. From there you are to fight and defeat the rebels there."

He then held out his communicator and punched in some numbers. After ten minutes, he spoke again.

"I have just downloaded a map of the Capitol to your communicators. You and all the other soldiers in your division, as well as in the other three divisions, should be able to use it if the route I laid out for you is not feasible."

"Yes sir."

"Head to those hovercrafts, and they will take you to your landing point."

As we walked towards them, he called out to us. "And one more thing: good luck."

As we march into the hovercraft, I am well aware that we have a moral duty to win this battle. It is not a matter of saving the Capitol or even saving civilization. It is a matter of saving humanity. If I thought the rebels went too far with their attempted genocide, than I must not considered that they would attempt mutual nuclear annihilation.

Once inside, the door closes and the hovercrafts take off.

Aric is in one of the other planes, and though I do not know where Helena is I hope she did not end up giving her life for the fatherland.

Montgomery and I take off our helmets because of the accumulated sweat; we are not the only ones to do so. With his helmet off, I can see how much terror is in Montgomery's pale and listless eyes.

It is understandable that he would be upset. Fighting is going on in his own home, and none of the people were evacuated to safety. It is bad enough that his parents were murdered, but now his colleagues, teachers, and neighbors are at risk.

I put my hand on his shoulder while offering comforting words. "Don't worry, we won't let the Rebs destroy your home."

It is not a long hovercraft ride, but it feels like eternity.


	41. Chapter 41:Golden city of destruction

When we step out, and as we march down the streets we see how the rebels treated the Capitol.

After what what I saw in District 8 and District 4, I am not surprised that acts of rebel barbarism would also take place here.

Apart from one nearly petrified Montgomery, the other peacekeepers in my Division and the other three divisions are not shocked either.

In the distance, I can hear the booming of artillery. The Rebs must be shelling the central circle.

As we march, we see a rebel patrol.

Both sides draw guns, and the outnumbered rebels are killed. However, the gunfire alerted other rebels who were sleeping in nearby buildings. The buildings, which were probably luxurious in times of peace, are trashed and damaged and some are even in fire.

The rebels pop out of the windows to fire at us.

With gun in hand, we spread out into loose formation and fire at the rebels. One by one they fall, some falling dead back in the buildings and some falling out the windows and landing on the ground with a crunch. Their grey uniforms stain red with blood.

Rebels in buildings farther down the street run down to meet us, expecting a few Capitol Guardsmen or maybe some local civilians with stolen firearms. It is clear by their charge strategy that they are not expecting four divisions of battle hardened peacekeepers.

We close ranks and fire at them, killing each and every one of the rebel bastards. While I have long been desensitized as a result of learning of widespread accounts of rebel mass-murder in District 1, the Capitol, District 4, and an attempted genocide in District 2, it still does not make this type of behavior acceptable.

As the rebels here are dead, we push forward. As we do, we see even more evidence that the rebels in the Capitol really tried to break their own record in cruelty and barbarism.

Eventually we reach a rebel artillery squad. There are three artillery guns next to each other, all pointed towards the center of the city and all firing constantly. I bet at there are squads like this all throughout the city, constantly shelling the inner residences.

Now there is going to be at least one less.

We fire at the rebel artillery crews, killing all of them. They die before they can even turn around, many simply slumping on top of their artillery cannons. After making sure there are no rebels hiding around, we use grenades to destroy the rebel artillery pieces and thus ensure the rebels can not use them.

Finally, we reach the lakeside.

Boats and yachts float in the middle of the lake at various points, abandoned and partially sunken. I do not need a strong imagination to guess what happened to those who were on board probably had something to do with the rebel hovercrafts that right now are dogfighting with the beleaguered hovercrafts of the Capitol Guardsmen.

Following the lake, we are able to reach the train station. Oddly enough, there are no rebels here. I guess it is not that strategic a location. In any case, we can now follow the road from here to the main combat.

Walking into the conductors office, I pick up the phone and punch in a number which the phone's digital phonebook tells me is the President's Mansion. I figure there will probably be the Headpeacekeeper of the Capitol on the other line, and I can tell him that we are on our way.

An unidentified old man answers, I assume whoever it is only picked up the phone because of someone were to call in the middle of a battle, it must be important.

"Hello? Who is this?"

"I am Peacekeeper Commander Hardley. I am currently leading four divisions of peacekeepers to reinforce your position; hold out until we arrive. Whatever happens, do not surrender."

"Well, that is good to know. Please be quick."

"Will do sir."

I hang up, and we head out again. I can already hear the fighting, and it gets louder the closer we get to the City Circle.

This battle will determine the outcome of the war. If we lose here, we lose everything.

Once again, the stakes are high as possible.


	42. Chapter 42:Battle of the Capitol

In the City Circle, there is fighting all around.

Rebels a few blocks down the road are charging the Capitol Guardsmen, trying in vain to overwhelm the beleaguered defenders.

All over this area, traps built by the defenders kill rebels in creatively gruesome ways; some of these traps are brand new, but some date back to the dark days.

First we fight with rebels who are resting at the farthest edge of the battle; I assume they have a cycle as to who rests and who fights.

In any case, many of the ones who are resting are killed quickly. The ones who are not killed like pigs prove to be problematic. While we are inevitably able to kill them as well, they do not go out alone. They fire at us and throw grenades, killing about seven of us for each of them. Since there were only eight of them left, the casualties on our sides did not even dent our numbers.

Next comes the planning phase. The plan is not so elaborate as to confuse the peacekeepers.

One division will separate into four sub-divisions, after which they will comb the area where rebel artillery would be; the sooner there are no more rebels shelling the city, the better. Once the shelling is brought to an end, they will move on the rebels.

A second division circles around and attacks the rebels from the east. They will be joined with half of the third division. It is smart to hit the rebels in two places, so that they can not focus all of their soldiers on us.

The rest of us, lead by yours truly, will attack the rebels from the south.

With any luck, we should prevail on this day.

My division and a half marches to the main battle, and after we take up positions we fire at the rebels. Slowly, moving from position to position, we push our way forward.

Many rebels die, but many others turn around and fire back. The way they fight resembles a mad wolf that is surrounded by hunting dogs.

Grenades fly, exploding with an accompanying scream as whoever was on the wrong end perishes.

Someone must be controlling the grizzly traps, because they only seem to spring when they are sure to hit only rebels.

One of these traps is in an alleyway full of rebels; it fills with boiling steam which turns the rebels into pools of rendered goop. All that remains are guns that are hot enough to hammer into a new shape, and uniforms which will no doubt be stuck to the ground.

Another one is a street in which several rebels are positioned, along with a District 13 tank. The streetlights shoot out a purple light which makes all the rebels it touches start to bleed uncontrollably from all the natural holes in their body.

A third one is a manhole which causes acid fog to spew out and snuff out all rebels in the plume. There were many variations of this; sometimes it was acid fog, sometimes it was chlorine gas, sometimes it was mustard gas, sometimes it was some other type of poisoned vapor.

A forth was a stoplight which simultaneously shoots lethal lightning at rebels in the vicinity. If there are peacekeepers or noncombatants or civilians in the area, than the lightning is at a non-lethal intensity so that they are only incapacitated; this gives us chance to secure the area and finish off any rebel soldiers there.

Most bizarre are the living traps, trapdoors deep in rebel held parts of the city occasionally open. Out of them pounces a genetic monstrosity that devours,poisons, or rips apart rebels there. Occasionally we would have to finish off the creatures before it turned on us; we would use grenades when bullets lacked effect.

Other traps were less creative; a barbed wire net, a spike pit trapdoor, hidden machine gun turrets which are doubtlessly controlled remotely, a well placed bear trap.

While these traps were objectively extreme, they still share a single redeeming quality; they were not meant to target noncombatants. These only go off if there are rebel soldiers in the vicinity. And while I may be wrong, rebel medics do not seem to count as combatants (though they do get non-lethal lightning shocks). This might be because the traps are remotely controlled, or it might be for some other unknown reason, but either way they are not as cruel as snare bombs.

The Rebs do not do well against these, and now they are fighting on two fronts. I sincerely hope the rebels will be defeated once again on this day.

I already know that District 2 is under firm Loyalist Control, but now I have to defend more defenseless civilians.

Katniss Everdeen will not survive this day, and I hope her cause dies with her.


	43. Chapter 43:Retiarius

Hearing gunfire on the other end of a long alleyway, I go down the alleyway to join my comrades on the other side. Due to rebel shelling and bombing, the ground of the alleyway was blown to bits and the sewage pipe beneath it was filled in with the debris of the tops of the buildings that make up this alleyway. The alleyway was more like a trench than anything else.

As I crawled my way down it, I got surprise in the form of an assaulter charging at me from out of the shadows.

This person had blond hair. He was wearing what looked to be a uniform of District 13 make but it was not a standard officers uniform, it was modified and included armor and this hinted that my assailant is in a special division. I know I saw him somewhere before, but I do not have time to piece this together. Right now I am need to worry about the fact that he has a trident.

When he comes rushing at me, I am just barley able to roll out of the way of his trident stab.

He tries to stab me again, but this time I am able to block and push back his trident with my bayonet.

Using this opportunity, I get back to my feet and swing the butt of my bayonet at his head.

He blocks this with his upraised elbow, and tries to stab at my underside.

I am barley able to get out of the way, but in doing so I fall to the ground. Before the assailant can stop me, I swing my legs and kick his out from under him.

He lands with a roll, and I roll out of the way. We both get back to our feet.

He is able to knock the bayonet and the gun out of my hands with a downward slash of the trident, but no sooner does he try to stab me than I sidestep him and pull out my sword.

I am able to slash at his shoulder and arm before he can turn around, and he lets out a groan of pain as he tries to stab at me again.

Once again I sidestep and land a solid punch to his stomach. Since I had the sword hilt in my hand, it hurt him even harder.

He throws me back by hitting me with the shaft of his trident, but this gets me within reach of the machinegun and bayonet.

I now hold the sword in my left hand and the machine gun and bayonet in my right.

He he charges at me with the trident.

Using my sword, I turn away the points of the trident.

Using the bayonet, I break through his armor with a forceful stab. I stab again, and this time I pierce his chest.

The assailant's eyes open wide, as does his mouth as he gasps for breath. He stumbles back, off of my bayonet point.

He falls against the wall, and slumps onto the ground. He attempted to prop himself back up with his trident, but as he did not have the strength to do this the trident slipped from his weakened grasp and fell to the ground next to him.

He is coughing up blood, and his skin is beginning to pale.

I sheath my sword, and walk over to him. Raising bayonet, I level it at his head.

Come on. Pull the trigger!

I do not know why, but I can not. Perhaps it is the look of helplessness in his eyes.

In any case, I notice him feeling in his pants pocket for something, but he seems too weak to pull it out for examination.

Against my better judgement, I help him pull it out. It turns out to be a picture.

The picture is of a blond haired man in his mid twenties, sitting down next to a woman of similar age. They are wearing what looks like District 13 clothes, but the first thing I notice is how happy they look. It is clear that this is a picture of the man and his wife or fiancée.

I hold the picture up so the assailant can look at it without effort; his head is laid back against the wall so he does not need to use draining energy to hold it up.

I only notice I am speaking when I hear my voice."Don't worry, I won't leave you yet."

With his eyes, he says thank you.

I hold the picture for him until his eyes grow dim and finally close.

I look for a pulse near the throat, there is none.

Gingerly, I place the picture in his front pocket. After that, I place his trident across his lap.

Even though he was an enemy, he was still a human being and a worthy opponent. As such, it would be rude of me not to treat his remains like the remains of a human.

Leaving the dead soldier behind, I continue down the alley towards the sound of gunfire. I must have missed something.


	44. Chapter 44:Johanna's last stand

I meet up with the peacekeepers on the other side of the alleyway. There I see what I missed.

Before I can actually see what is happening, I hear a scream which is silenced by gunfire. It is a scream of anger and fury, not of fear.

On the ground in front of a building lies the bloodied corpses of four rebels. While three of the rebels are unknown, the forth one is clearly identifiable. Johanna Mason, well known Victor from District 7 as well as a rebel and supposedly a serial killer to boot, is dead. Her eyes are still open, and though they are now dull they are still wide like those of a cornered wolf. Her cold dead hand still grips a battle axe, the other axe is buried in the chest of a Peacekeeper, and she wears what looks like an improvised suicide vest; I did not look close enough to see if she has a fuse, but it is clear that her plans were halted by the rattle of machine guns.

I guess this rebel got to burn alone.

The other peacekeepers explain what happened. Apparently she and ten rebel foot soldiers holed themselves up in the building when the peacekeepers attacked, and after an intense standoff she was one of only four rebels left inside. After running out of ammo, the four rebels made a charge during which they were all gunned down by the hundred or so peacekeepers who surrounded the building.

It looks like the District 7 Victor met a fitting end. Except for one thing.

"What was she doing here? I thought she was in District 13."

"So did we, but it turns out that the Rebs decided to send in their Victors in the hope of raising moral enough for a victory. Heh, as if the presence of Victors would save them."

"So, apart from Johanna, who else was flown in?"

"We don't have a full list, but security cameras showed that Finnick and Peeta were here. We don't know where the former is, but Peeta is probably with his fiancée."

"Well, it's their funeral. How are the positions."

"Everything is going well. Most of the rebel artillery guns were either destroyed or captured, quite a few of the rebels here are dead, and there is no way the President's Palace or the Nuclear Silos will fall into rebel hands. This battle will be over by lunchtime."

I look up at the skies, and realize that we have been fighting all day and into the night. I am sure that back in District 2, the rebels have been completely routed. I would not be surprised if the entire district was secured and the Loyalist Armies were pushing the rebels back.

If I live to see the end of this battle, than I will get the opportunity to return to District 2 and see the triumph of the National Banner for myself.

Right now, I must go to join the rest of the Peacekeepers in defeating the enemy here and now once and for all.

I march with the others to the battle.


	45. Chapter 45:Fateful encounter

**Authors Note:The story isn't over just yet.**

* * *

><p>All around me, the battle rages on. Much of the city is outright aflame, and several buildings are collapsing.<p>

At one point, we have to crawl around a burning tank.

We make our way to a courtyard just four blocks from the President's Palace, and grizzly fighting is going on all around.

I see one Peacekeeper taking cover behind a knocked over statue, fighting off eight rebel soldiers. I decide to give my comrade a hand, so I take up cover behind a fountain and together we are able to kill the eight rebels. This gives the peacekeeper enough time to take cover next to me before more rebels arrive.

"Hardley. Is that you?"

I can hear that this is Montgomery's voice, so I respond. I am relieved that one of my friends is still alive through all of this, so much so that I do not care how he recognized me.

"Small world."

We can only exchange a few more words before another throng of rebels show up.

Since they are firing at is in a way that prevents us from sticking our heads up to fire back, we throw our grenades at the rebels.

Four grenades are enough to kill many of the rebels in the courtyard and put the rest off guard long enough for us to gun them down.

Before more Rebs can come to the courtyard, we sprint across it. Of the buildings here, only one of the doors are open. Since neither of us had the time to learn lock picking, we go through the open door.

Inside, it is clear that the rebels decided to loot the place. But apart from the fire, there is no sign of murder or more sinister rebel activities having taken place here; it looks like the former occupant already left.

In any case, the building is on fire so we force ourselves up the stairs to the third floor where the walls were blown away by artillery shells, turning the floor into a roof.

Since we see the rebels before they see us, we throw our last grenades at them. Once the courtyard is secure, we force ourselves to keep marching in spite of exhaustion. Since it is safe for now, we talk while forcing our way back down the stairs and out the front door of the building so we can be on the street.

"So, where are the others?"

"Jacobine's fighting to secure the Capitol Airstrip, Helena's back in District 2, and Aric gto injured so he is being treated in the hospital."

"I hope its not serious."

"Not at all, just a bullet in the foot. He'll live."

As we talk, I can tell by Montgomery's voice that he is still horrified by what happened to his home. Some of the dead civilians might be people he knew. His ability to hold together is admirable.

Once on the street, we reach a foxhole that was fashioned out of sandbags. It is clear that the rebels made this. Inside are five rebels, all asleep. Perhaps these rebels were exhausted from fighting non stop for two full days. In any case, they have weapons and therefore need to die.

We have no grenades of our own, and what ammunition we still have can not be wasted.

We take out our knives, and Montgomery circles to the other side of the foxhole. Reaching across, we each stab one rebel in the throat so they can not scream and awake the others. We repeat until they are all dead, at which point we steal their grenades.

After some more walking, we hear the sound of gunfire. Sneaking carefully so as to avoid detection, we we reach a barricade. On the side of the barricade we approached from, two rebels are firing at an unknown number of peacekeepers on the other side.

These rebels are not regular grunts. Their uniforms indicate they are from some sort of Special Operations division of the District 13 army. Though I can not see their faces, I can tell both can not be much older than eighteen or nineteen.

But there is something about them that is not quite right about them.

One of them runs our of ammo, and they both set their guns down and turn around to reload. This is when I see who they are.

Standing in front of me are the two people who killed my cousin and caused a rebellion; Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark.

They do not reach for their guns, but Katniss already has a bow out and an arrow notched.

She fires before I can react, and the arrow hits me in the chest. Not paying attention to what is going on around me, I sit down and collapse onto my back.


	46. Chapter 46:Cato

I awaken in a field beneath an gloriously splendid golden sun. The sun is much closer to the ground than it should be, but I am oddly enough not horrified or even curious of this. Nor am I bothered by the apparent fact that I can stare into it without feeling the pain that normally comes from looking into the sun.

Likewise, this sun provides the perfect amount of warmth. It is as though I am an infant in the warmth of a hug from my mother. A light and gentle breeze dances across a wide and open blue sky. This eased blowing of the breeze brushed the grass and flowers of the field as though they were the hair of a child, and it gently pulled the puffs of white along the air as though they were balloons.

After filling my eyes with the beautiful sky (but not forgetting it or taking it for granted), I became aware of the field I was in. Though primarily composed of a golden wheat, the field had a magnificent variety of growth. Vibrant flowers of every color, both primary and secondary, were growing in such a multitude that the colors were almost overwhelming. It was as though the flowers were paints upon a palette of wheat.

After seeing as much as I could take in from the harmonious spectacles of life, I looked down at what I was wearing. Whatever took me to this beautiful field also changed me out of the muddied and bloodied garments I wore on the battlefield, because now I am wearing an immaculate dress uniform with all the medals and awards I was granted during my career. Everything I wear is polished to the point of being a mirror.

But all of these things pale in comparison to the sight I see before me when I look up in front of me.

It all pales in comparison when I look up and see Cato.

For the first time in over a year, I see my cousin as he was. He has no scars or injuries, and there is not a single wolf mutt in sight for him to be ripped apart by. He wears the blood red tribute uniform he wore during the 74th Hunger Games, but it looks completely unworn. Before I notice anything else about him, I know it is him by his bright blue eyes.

"Cato!"

Breaking into a sprint, I run towards the person who was always like a brother to me. The person who I have not see in over a year and whom I thought lost. Oddly enough, I feel neither weariness nor any other drain of energy as I run to my dead friend. In any case, I run out of fear that he will disappear if I do not reach him in time.

When we finally meet, we embrace in a hug.

After the greetings are exchanged, I try to speak but I am lost for words. Fortunately, Cato is able to break the ice.

"I take it you're glad to see me?"

"Yes. I love you."

"I love you too. You seem tired; I know a place where we can rest and I can answer any questions you have while you walk."

"Cato, what is this place?"

"Some call it the Field of Warriors, some call it Dwelling of the Blessed. I'm not really the poetic type, so I only call it home."

"Is any of this real?"

"I can't answer that question, I'm afraid that's up to you to decide."

I myself can not answer this, as I have no prior knowledge in regard with the metaphysical. Instead, I decide to milk my presence here for all it is worth.

"Is anyone else here?"

"Oh yes, tons of people. More than I can count."

"Is anyone I know here?"

"Absolutely. In fact, I'll point them out to you."

While I ponder this, he motions for me to walk with him. As we walk, I notice that it takes no effort whatsoever to walk through the field as the flora seems to flow around us. Even stranger, treading on the flora does not even dent the flowers or the grain.

Eventually we reach a gathering of large tents, picnic blankets, outdoor eating tables, food, and people. The people here are all laughing and enjoying themselves. Some of the people are having picnics, some are playing cards or talking at the tables, some are swimming in watering holes. They are spaced apart enough that it does not feel crowded, yet close enough to be within walking distance of each other.

While many of them I do not recognize, a few I do. Among these are Clove, Gloss, Cashmere, Brutus, the rebel who wanted to surrender, and the rebel whom I stabbed to death fairly recently. However, I don't stop to talk with any of them.

As I see them being happy, I am aware of how out of place I am.

"Cato, why am I here?"

"Why shouldn't you be here? You are a good person."

"What makes you so sure? I'm not as sure as you are."

"While you may have made mistakes in your past, that alone is not enough to make you a bad person."

"Then what is?"

"If someone does something bad out of malicious intent with understanding the full gravity of their actions, than what he did is bad. If that person chose to cause harm or loss of life purely out of his free will, than what he did was evil. If he never feels doubt or guilt for his actions, than he is evil."

"And someone is only an evil person if all these apply?"

"Yes. Some people only kill because they have to, or some are incapable of understanding the gravity of their actions; neither of these people are truly evil."

I think about this for a few moments, matching these up with my experiences. The instances where an evil was committed by my enemies were all times where they knew what they were doing and were doing it just to make people suffer.

My thoughts are interrupted the first person Cato wanted to show me walks up to me. Harod was sitting at a table playing cards with his wife Anna and another peacekeeper; I am not sure how I know this, but I just know that the other peacekeeper is the one who threw himself on a grenade to save my life.

Harod, like me, is wearing a dress uniform.

When I see Harod, I give him a bear hug like I gave Cato a few minutes ago.

"Harod, I want to start by saying I'm sorry. I should have been there to help you, and I let you down."

Harod smiles his warm smile. "You don't need to be sorry, I already forgave you."

"But why?"

"Because that is what friends do, friends forgive each other for their mistakes."

After talking with Harod for some time, we walk to another point in the camp where I see my grandfather and my father.

My father speaks first. "Lysander, it is good to finally see you after so long. My nephew Cato was just getting done telling me what a fine young man you turned out to be."

Next my grandfather spoke. "We know about what you were up to, and much of it was good. You're on the right track."

I talk with them for some more time, happy to meet these people whom I have not seen in a long time.

Eventually, Cato and I walk to the edge of the camp.

"Lyes, it was good talking with you again. I missed you too."

"Wait, what do you mean?"

"You need to go back."

"Cato, when you died I was afraid I would never see you again. I'm afraid that if I go back I will lose you."

Cato smiles his welcoming smile while continuing.

"Did you get happiness from me while I was alive?"

"Yes. Absolutely."

"Would you say that the sadness of my death overshadowed that happiness or prevented you from getting happiness from memories of me?"

I have to think about this for a moment, as the question caught me off guard.

"... No. What time I have with you easily brought me more happiness than the amount of sadness I felt at your death. I would not have felt sorrow at all if I did not care for you."

Cato grinned at me having gotten to the point that he was leading me to.

"It sounds like you were never separated from me to begin with."

I had never thought of it like this before, and this notion warms my heart considerably.

* * *

><p><strong>Authors Note:<strong>

** In showing Clove there (and I will leave it up to you as to whether it was a dream or something more), I am not denying that she clearly did very bad things. I am just saying that Clove, like many other child-soldiers, probably did not grasp the complete severity of her actions and attempted actions. **

**Likewise I personally believe that the dead career victors were not particularly sadistic, they just believed that the other tributes would have to die anyway so it is okey if they kill them. I would like to believe that they, like other career victors, used part of their winnings for philanthropic purposes. **


	47. Chapter 47:Recovery

I awaken with a start in a hospital bed, and with a bad headache.

It takes an hour for my headache to lessen enough for me to take stock of my surroundings.

Before I can open my eyes, I am made aware of the sounds of the room. A heart monitor beats on a regular pattern.

Lights above me flicker a bit.

A medical practitioner with a Capitol accent talks with another medical practitioner, the second one has a District 2 accent and sounds exhausted.

When I finally open my eyes, I see where I am. I am in the Capitol Hospital, in a hospital bed, with bandages wrapped thickly around my chest. The number of wounded must have been to the point where the Capitol Hospital had to be pressed into service as a military hospital. I can see the hospital beds to my left and right are filled with injured civilians and wounded Peacekeepers.

The Capitol Doctor and the Peacekeeper Medic he is talking to seem to notice me being awake.

The medic rushes over to attend to me, and all I can do is mumble my question repeatedly.

"Where are my Peacekeepers? Where are my peacekeepers? ..."

"Don't worry, they're resting. The battle is over."

"Did we win?"

He turns on the television on the wall across from my bed, and says, "See for yourself. Now please get some rest."

I focus my attention on the screen in front of me. The footage on the screen must have repeated over and over for hours; when I see what it is I can easily understand why it would be important enough to repeat.

It if footage Katniss and Peeta recorded from an elevated angle. The footage shows two peacekeepers walking up behind them. Katniss and Peeta turn around, and Katniss fires an arrow at one of the peacekeepers and hits him in the chest. The other peacekeeper blurts out "for my parents!" and unloads his machine gun at the two Victors. The two Victors fall back onto the ground, and with his last ounce of life Peeta reaches out and clasps Katniss's. He pulls himself close to her and holds her in his arms as he dies.

The subtitles on the bottom of the screen read: "The Mockingjay is Dead".

I close my eyes, relieved that this is finally over.

After about a day the doctors feel I am recovered enough to go out join with the rest of my division. The Capitol medicine must be really high quality, as they were able to heal a near-fatal arrow wound in a few hours. I am even allowed to keep the arrow as a souvenir, though I have to keep it in a plastic bag until the blood dries.

It is night time, and most of the peacekeepers here are asleep or otherwise resting in Victor Park. It is called this because it has statues of every single Hunger Games Victor; under each statue is a plaque indicating when the Victor was born, when he or she died if he or she died, as well as notable things this victor did during or after their Hunger Games. I assume that the statues of the rebellious Victors will be either taken down, vandalized, or given updated plaques describing their crimes.

I go to my division, and after making my way through the tired and weary peacekeepers, I reach my friends.

Jacobine, Aric, and Montgomery are asleep under the statue of Gloss. I do not read the plaque, but I assume it includes some mention of him and his sister killing the Beast in the third Quarter Quell. Unfortunately they did not kill the real threat, but I can no longer dwell on the past too much as I am too tired to.

It is midnight.

"Aric, how have you been doing? I haven't seen you for half a month?"

"Doing fine. The Quack managed to fix my foot, so I'll be able to walk. Helena got promoted to Corporal while fighting in District 2. How are you doing? I heard you got an arrow in the heart, are you okey?"

I did not know it hit my heart. But in any case, I am okey now. I nod in answer to his question. Then I check on Jacobine.

"Jacobine, how are you doing?"

"Good now that the battle is over. The airstrip was a fucking meat grinder."

"Well, at least it is over. Montgomery, how are you doing? I heard you killed the Mockingjay."

If Montgomery is proud of ending the rebel threat, he does not show it; he just treats it like a fact of life, his voice giving this event the importance of breakfast.

"Yes. I got a medal and met the President."

"This is quite a victory."

"Two teenagers are dead, but I guess it can be called a victory. I just wish someone else could have to be the one to do it."

We stare up at the starry sky; years ago Montgomery told me that the Capitol uses some technology to cancel out light pollution ao they can see the sky, but I do not remember the science bits.

Either way, we watch the stars and think of all that happened.


	48. Chapter 48:Display

We were allowed to see the bodies in person.

Montgomery, Jacobine, and I were three of the twenty four guards stationed around the two corpses to make sure nobody got too close or tries to take a souvenir. However, it seems like everybody is content to simply watch from a distance like children approaching an unfamiliar object.

After being in display for thirty hours, the bodies of Katniss Everdeen and Peeat Mellark, as well as the bodies of Johanna Mason and Finnick Odair, will be cremated and the ashes dumped unceremoniously in the middle of Capitol Lake.

By now, the blood has drained from their bullet holes. Lying dead together, they look somewhat peaceful. I can see what Montgomery meant by what he said last night; these two people do not look like they had hearts of maliciousness. I do not know what lies or threats were levied against them to make them act as the face of a rebellion, nor do I know whether or not they would rather have lived out their lives without bloodshed. In fact, I am not even sure if they actually intended for a revolution or if they simply dug themselves too deep until there was no longer a way out of it.

I still do now know what to think of the vision I had while unconscious. If I told the doctors, they would say I was just hallucinating. Maybe I was, but it felt like something in the collective subconscious that for worse or better was simply forgotten. If it was real, I have no doubt that Cato would welcome the two new arrivals without hard feelings.

In any case, things are starting to look good for me and my people for the first time in a year. The rebels have been completely thrown from District 2 and the Capitol, loyalist partisans liberated the barley occupied District 1 and placed it back under Peacekeeper control, and it looks like we will be on the offensive soon.

Quite frankly, I just want this whole war to end. Too many people died, and too much suffering was felt. I am just thankful we were able to stop the enemies before they went too far and commit genocide.

Still, I know that there will still be fighting and dying ahead. I have no intent of running away; I must see this through. I hope the worst is over, and that we can finish this quickly.

This must be what it means to be a Peacekeeper. During times of peace, we enjoy its fruits and have families and friends and we prosper. During times of war and times of rebellion, we fight and die in the mud and the trenches to protect our families and friends so they may once again know peace.


	49. Epilogue

It has been a decade and a half since the war ended.

Since then, those of us who were not needed were permitted to retire. The grass grew, and the districts slowly and painfully rebuilt their shattered homes and salvaged what they could from their shattered lives.

Since then, the people who fought in the war had families and children and watched them grow up. Some grew up to be workers, some grew up to be farmers, some grew up to be business owners, and some of those in the Career Districts grew up to be Peacekeepers and Careers.

The death of the Mockingjay was the beginning of the end for the rebellion she helped to create.

The defeat in District 2 practically wiped out the rebel army and combined with the failure to take the Capitol and the death of their leaders, this proved to be a death toll for the rebellion.

Even though the rebels tried to raise up new soldiers as fast as they could, there was no way whatsoever they could replace the veterans and battle hardened rebels that were invaluable to them nor could they replace the war supplies that were captured at the Battle of District 2; they could not ever raise the rebel moral from the depths it plummeted to. Mass desertion and (mostly in the career districts) defection/repatriation plagued the Rebel Army all the way until their defeat

Meanwhile, the combined victories in District 2 and in the Capitol invigorated the Loyalist Armed Forces, which were barley scathed by the battles there.

Due to these factors, we were able to blitzkrieg across much of Panem. District after District fell to our advance as the demoralized and inexperienced rebel levies routed. Those civilians in rebel districts that did not migrate en masse away from our advancing armies were left with a simple choice: accept Peacekeeper rule or die.

The last chance of the rebels even bringing the war to a ceasefire ended with Paylor's Last Stand in District 6; the rebels could not even raise fast levies after their disastrously failed attempt to break our momentum. After losing so many men (not to mention the rebel generals like Field Marshal Paylor who died in the struggle), the rebels could only flail around in desperation as they attempted to avert their by now inevitable fate.

After a lengthy siege the Gates of District 13 were smashed open with a drill ram, and we fought our way down the first three floors. Operatives and Raiding Missions were able to destroy enough of their farms that the people in the caves were starving and desperate. Once it became apparent that her own people will soon rip her apart in a food riot, Alma Coin put a bullet in her temple and the starving District 13 people surrendered.

While their bodies were never found, it is presumed beyond reasonable doubt that Haymitch, Beetee, Annie, and the family of Katniss all died in the infighting.

Gale Hawthorne was interrogated in the Capitol for over eight months, during which time he admitted to a large list of atrocities and crimes against humanity which not only include attempted genocide against District 2 but also construction of the infamous trap bombs which were designed to target medics. After being tried and found guilty, he was taken to District 2 and given a flamethrower execution. The Butcher of District 2 is dead, and the entire population of the Career Districts and the Capitol cheered as the flames enveloped him. I heard one of the flamethrower operators was the teenage boy whose family was murdered in District 2.

Gale's case was not isolated, as the rebel leaders and rebels who committed atrocities were all tried and made to stand for the innocent multitude whose blood they shed.

The war was over after three long years.

Once the worst war in our history was over, Panem was changed forever.

First of all not only did the Hunger Games resume as before (except with thirteen Districts instead of twelve), but every month of the year one boy and one girl would be reaped from each district to be sent to the Capitol and become Avox's; the First, Second, and Forth Districts were exempt from the Avox Reapings as a reward for loyalty during the war.

Secondly, and most significantly, the National Banner of Panem flew over District 13 for the first time in three quarters of a century. The people of District 13 were taken out of the caverns and had to rebuild the ruins on the surface. It is still not decided what will become of the now abandoned underground complex, but it seems like the government will flood it and create a subterranean lake.

Thirdly, District 12 was rebuilt. The new population comes from people who were shipped in from District 13, District 11, and other recaptured districts with large populations.

The three career districts not only got exemption from the Avox Reapings, but also regained prosperity lost in the war. All across these three Districts (and in the Capitol) monuments and memorials honor those who gave their lives in opposition against the rebellion, and those who died at the hands of rebels. These monuments, memorials, and shrines will stand as testament to the martyrs for countless generations after the blood dried. Of course, the countless ceremonies of remembrance and the honors placed upon the dead heroes also ensure this. Not that they are necessary; nobody will ever forget the tragedies and sacrifices of the loyalists so long as we live.

Even the Peacekeepers were changed during the war and in ways that would remain afterwards; now they are recruited from all three of the Career Districts, and Peacekeepers are allowed to marry and have families. Coriolanus Snow stated officially that these two changes were "in recognition for loyal and devoted effort", but we all know that it is to get more Peacekeepers. In any case, I'm not complaining.

While the nation itself was changed, so were the lives of its inhabitants.

President Coriolanus Snow currently runs the nation from the Capitol, where he lives in luxury and holds power. It is clear that when he dies history will remember him as a wise and heroic mastermind who saved Panem. While I think that he does deserve credit for running the nation in it's worst moment (I can not imagine the stress of trying to run an entire civilization while it spirals into despair), I still hope the sacrifices of the men and woman on the ground will also be acknowledged.

Headpeacekeeper Romulus Thread survived to the end of the war, and was Headpeacekeeper in most of the Districts at one time or another. Because of his wartime leadership and bravery, and because of his critical role in reestablishing order in previously rebellious districts, Romulus Thread has joined the pantheon of heroes who every Peacekeeper and every Loyalist look up to with admiration. He is the among the most decorated men and woman in Panem, and quite frankly he deserves his fame and decorations considering how far above and beyond the call of duty he went. Romulus Thread is currently married to a District 2 Victor, and has four children biologically (not bad for someone who spent his service before and during the war as a virgin) as well as having adopted the orphans of the deceased Gloss. We kept in touch, as we both lost a loved one during the 74th Hunger Games; we exchange letters and if he can than he visits. I sincerely hope he is enjoying the peace he spent his whole life trying to keep.

Headpeacekeeper Of The Armies Larsen Barca also survived to the end of the war, and is among the few and far between men more decorated than Romulus Thread. Like Thread, his exploits on and off the battlefield ensure that he will have a permanent place amongst the great loyalist heroes of the Dark Days and of the Mockingjay's Uprising. After playing a critical role in the Siege of District 13 (and ending the war), he served as Headpeacekeeper of District 1 until he could retire. The week before his retirement went into effect, he was given the highest rank in the Peacekeeper Armed Forces as an honor for his service. He still keeps in touch, and is able to come down to visit several times a year. He married a woman and had two children.

Enobaria was crowned Victor of the third Quarter Quell once the other Victors who were in the Quell died off in their failed uprising. She lives in a District 2 Victors Mansion to this day, and she married and had kids. She will likely be remembered as a heroic Career Tribute who fought to defend her home. I know that she paid for Lyme to have a burial (which for obvious reasons was unmarked), so perhaps she can enjoy her retirement.

Montgomery was also one of the Peacekeepers who was able to retire after the war ended (as appose to being kept in service for garrisoning the recaptured Districts). In the Capitol and in District 2 is known by the title "Mockingjay Killer" and has quite a few decorations for someone of his rank. He became a professor and a scientist, and he went on to make scientific discoveries in his field. He still keeps in touch, and he flys down to visit at least twice a month. I actually met his wife (who was with child), and she was not only humble but completely free of the vices that are common amongst some Capitolites.

Jacobine was amongst those who had to stay in the Districts as a garrison, but he was still able to marry a District 4 woman. His service ends soon, and we look forward to the day he and his wife will return.

Aric and Helena got married, but since they also had to stay behind as garrisons I could only stay in touch with them through letters. I look forward to the day their service ends.

Crispin returned to District 4, bought a new boat, and was a successful whaling ship captain. He took Marcus under his wing. I still exchange letters with them.

Against all the odds, Marcus not only survived the Rebel Occupation of District 4 but in fact gained military decorations for his actions and exploits as a Loyalist Partisans (which go up to and include assassinating a District 13 general). He adopted the orphan who I saw boarding the train during the evacuation, and I hear Marcus is like a surrogate father to Crispin's grandchildren. I still exchange letters with him, and I am glad to hear he is finally happy again.

As for me, I also did some things after retiring.

I was among those who was allowed to retire immediately after the war ended; this is much sooner than the date of my previous contract yet it feels like it was after an eternity.

The first thing I did when returning home was fulfill a promise I made to my black haired love. Annona and I got married, and she gave my mother grandchildren not long after. We live in my old home in District 2, and I got a job as manager at one of the concrete factories; it is a comfortable job and it pays well enough to live without hunger.

I found where Harod was buried and I gave him a proper grave with a headstone befitting a peacekeeper; he is buried next to his wife. I also placed flowers at the graves of Cato, Clove, and other unknown loyalists who died in the war.

I decided to name my firstborn child Cato, in honor of his gallant uncle. He has blond hair and blue eyes, and when he grows up he wants to be a Peacekeeper like his father. While I am glad Cato does not want to be a Career, I still know I will worry about him if he joins the boys in white. This is not to say I would ever think of outright forbidding him to join or even discouraging him, but I will make sure that he knows what it means to be a Peacekeeper. If he still wants to be one (and he probably will) than I will wish him the best of luck.

I do not think he will have to go through what I went through while he is in service; there really is peace in our time and it seems that for the time being it is not going anywhere. Sometimes when I walk in the woods I look over my shoulder for an ambush, despite the fact that it has been eighteen years since a rebel has ever set foot in District 2. When I watch the Hunger Games (I don't pay attention to them, I just have the screen on and read a book), I need to remind myself with each cannon that I am not being shelled by rebel artillery. I still exercise and practice with my Grandfather's sword and my Cousin's gladius and dagger every day; Montgomery saw Cato's gladius sword being sold at an auction and decided to buy me the best birthday present possible. I guess this is what they mean when they say that a peacekeeper can die but he can not retire.

Still, I have loved a good life so far and I am sure I will continue to live a good life until I reach my natural end. Then, if what I saw was real, I will join Cato in the place that feels like the starting point.

I am by no means disgruntled nor disillusioned; I do not regret having served in the Peacekeepers. It is true that I think the world would have had less bloodshed if the war never happened to begin with, but it did happen and I am glad that I rose to the challenge and passed the test laid before me. I learned the harsh realities of being a Peacekeeper, but this is not a bad thing. I learned that you can not win honor or glory; honor has to come from within and glory is simply another word for overcoming insurmountable adversaries. I learned that bravery can be as dramatic as throwing yourself over a grenade to save comrades, or as subtle as waking up in the morning while knowing that any day can be the day that you die. I have faced down the impossible and forged lasting bonds in the fires of war.

I am proud of having proved that I am deserving of these things, and I am proud of having fulfilled my Duty as a Peacekeeper. Now I am home again, and my home isn't cold.


	50. Afterwards

**Authors Notes**

* * *

><p>... and Lysander Hardley and his friends lived happily ever after.<p>

It looks like the Story of this peacekeeper has come to an end.

* * *

><p><strong>Acknowledgments:<strong>

I should start off by thanking ForFutureReference, as he has been a constant support and inspiration while writing this series. His feedback is a source of help that is always welcome. Feel free to read some of his stories as they are very good.

I feel I should also thank BamItsTyler, Cashmere67, and Horsesareamazing for following this story.

I will also thank 1-1 Marines for reading the story and sending feedback.

Finally I would like to thank anyone who reads, follows, or reviews this series in the future.

* * *

><p><strong>Reasons I have for writing this story:<strong>

I started the series because I wanted to tell the story of the Hunger Games from the point of view of the other side. Practically every story shows the peacekeepers (and by extension the careers) as either soulless sadists or secretly rebellious.

I wanted to show that the peacekeepers and Careers are human too, and even if they are on the wrong side the individuals still have valid reasons for the side they chose.

Sometimes the rank and file soldiers on Bad Side do not know they are the bad side, maybe because they were lied to or maybe because they think the enemies are worse or maybe they simply do not think about it beyond "protect my family and my home". Usually the rank and file soldiers on both sides of a conflict live and laugh and love and have families back home who they want to protect from harm.

While some peacekeepers were no doubt bad, the same could be said about some rebels. The simple fact that usually the people supporting the wrong side are just that: people. Most times they were roped into supporting the bad guys through lies or threats.

In fact, it could be stated that the peacekeepers and careers are also victims of the Capitol, as they were manipulated into supporting and dying for a cause they do not understand.

* * *

><p><strong>Reasons I DON'T have for writing this story:<strong>

I am not trying to claim that the Capitol is the good side; it is clear that they are evil.

I am not trying to say that democracy is broken or that dictatorships are good. Democracy is the best form of government so far, and dictatorships are the worst form of government.

* * *

><p><strong>What comes next?<strong>

A very good question. While the series is over, I have every intention of continuing to write stories and even another series of a few.

There might even be some spin-off stories to this series. In any case, I wish all my supporters the best of luck.


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